


The Knight

by Robin_Redd



Series: The Knight [1]
Category: Original Work, The Knight (Original Work)
Genre: Alcohol, Bathing/Washing, Dark Fantasy, Dubious Consent, Erotica, M/M, Masturbation, NaNoWriMo 2020, Religious Guilt, Trans Character by Trans Writer, Trans Male Character, Vampires, Violence, Voyeurism, accidental misgendering, mentions of abuse, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:14:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 53,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27351052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_Redd/pseuds/Robin_Redd
Summary: Ser Abraham Radcliff, knight of the Holy Empire of Tinian and vampire hunter, is tasked with escorting a vampire to his home country of Aberon. My attempt at NaNoWriMo!
Relationships: Dorian/Ser Abraham Radcliff
Series: The Knight [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023286
Comments: 66
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my attempt at NaNoWriMo this year! It is original fiction with original characters. It will have bits of erotica and dark scenes, so be warned! I'm mostly posting this here to keep track of my word count and to keep me in line! There may be points where the chapter ends at a weird spot, but that's because I hit my word count for the day

A tired stillness hung over the town like a rabbit ready to bolt. The claws of the first morning light creeped over the horizon, a threat and a promise of a new day. The knight was all but swaying in his saddle, guiding his steed on instinct more than purpose. Beside him, his companion road straight-backed, looking as refreshed and alive as when it’d woken at dusk. The knight glared at it. The black bitter pit in his stomach hardened, twisting into knots. His hand twitched towards the sword strapped to his saddle. It would be easy; this wouldn’t be the first time he’d dispatched one of these creatures. He was pretty sure he could be fast enough, it would take seconds, a swipe of his blade and whispered words to his Gods and it would be over.

The filigree on the hilt bit into his palm, and the creature turned its eyes to him. It offered him a grin, flashing sharp teeth. “Having murderous thoughts again, Abraham? Come now, I thought we were starting to get along.” 

He let go of his blade, glaring at the road ahead. “I’ve asked you not to call me that.” 

“My apologies, Ser Radcliff.” It’s laughter scraped against him. It burrowed like a tick under his skin, making him clench his teeth. “Should I be concerned?” They drew closer to one of the only lit buildings at this time of night. The Wayside Inn rose before them, a bright, glittering jewel amongst the black of night. Abraham dismounted from his horse. A hand shot out, gripping his upper arm as he went to wake the stablehand. “You didn’t answer my question.” The creature gripped his arm tighter, a threat of strength as it stepped into his personal space.

“The fact that you still have your hand should be answer enough.” Abraham hissed. The creature’s laughter echoed through the courtyard again, startling the stablehand awake. It offered a small incline of his head towards the boy, lifting a delicate eyebrow. With a tired sigh, Abraham turned towards him, offering him a forced smile. He passed the horses off to him, giving him a few extra crowns to ensure the job was done well. All the while, his companion hovered in the shadows, watching the boy like a beggar sitting before a feast. The inn door opened once, casting light on it, and Abraham felt sick seeing the way his lips curled back from fangs. He made sure that the creature followed him inside, and thanked the Gods that daylight was rapidly approaching.

The inn was empty when they stepped inside, save for the keeper than was preparing for the coming morning. She gave them both a nod as he set aside the glass she’d been wiping. Her eyes shot to the pendant around Abraham’s neck. “Mornin’, Ser.” Her voice was soft, and held none of the exhaustion that the bags under her eyes showed. “Welcome to the Wayside.”

“Good morning,” Abraham said. He pulled his purse from his pocket, “My friend and I would like a room.” She eyed them both. The holy symbol he wore carried a lot of weight, but she stiffened when her eyes fell on the creature behind him. 

“I’m sorry, Ser.” She said, not taking her eyes off the monster. Abraham could feel it looming behind him, too pale, too still to be human. “I’m afraid we don’t have a room available right now.

“Are you sure?” The creature spoke, it’s eyes glittering darkly. It leaned forward and the woman’s breathing sharpened. Abraham’s hand was on his blade again. The creature leaned forward, its palm flat on the bar so that it could whisper in her ear. Abraham saw the creature smile as it spoke, it’s fangs far too close to the woman’s neck.  
Her face flushed scarlett, her breast heaving. “That’s…” she began, and drew back slowly, staring into the things face, “I think we might have an extra room… It’s typically reserved, though.” 

“Perfect!” The creature offered her a smile, it’s fangs now hidden. “We’ll take it. Abraham, pay the woman.” He slapped his hand on the bar. 

The knight scowled. He reminded himself that he was on a mission. The Bishop had been very clear in his instructions. He was to ensure that this thing reached its homeland safely. His orders had been as simple as that. He’d pressed for more information, but had been told to do his job. Never mind that his job until two days ago was to hunt creatures like this. What made this one so important that they weren’t dispatching it on the spot? Despite how his King pressed for a peaceful coexistence between their closest neighbors, Abraham wasn’t convinced that such a feat was possible. A doe did not become friends with a bobcat unless it wanted to end up as dinner. 

Still, he was a man of honor, and if his lord bid him to escort a monster straight to its hellsih home, he would do so without complaint. His job was not to understand. He didn’t bother to haggle for the price of the room. It was almost sunrise, and it wouldn’t do for them to get kicked out. Exhaustion made his feet heavy as he trudged up the stairs. Their room was the furthest down the hall, set apart from the others. It was larger than he’d expected, a bed big enough for two dominating the space. There was even a small seating area under a barred window. The hearth in the corner was cold, and Abraham dropped their bags onto the floor and went to light it. Behind him, the creature moved about its new space.

“Well, isn’t this lovely.” It mused. He heard the sound of a bag being opened, and turned to see it draping a heavy cloth over the window. Immediately the room felt smaller, the weight of the air heavier. He shook his head and turned back to the pile of logs he’d made in the hearth. Stitching his hand in the middle of them, he murmured a soft prayer. There was a breathless moment as his palm tingled and a spark leapt from his skin, catching the dry kindling. 

Rubbing his hands together, Abraham hovered near the growing warmth of the fire. He turned to find the creature staring at him. In the flickering light, its eyes were red, it’s face almost human. “What?” he asked, getting to his feet.

“I do wish you would stop calling me that?” the creature drew a knee up, planting it on the bed to loosen the laces of its boots.

“Calling you what?” He hadn’t said more than a handful of words to the creature since they’d started their journey. 

“Creature, thing, it. It’s all very rude.” The boot hit the floor with a loud thump. It glazed at where Abraham stood frozen, “Oh come now, Ser Radcliff, I thought you were the big, bad vampire hunter. Surely you know I can hear every thought that bounces around that thick skull of yours.” The second boot followed the first, making him jump. 

“What would you prefer to be called then?” Abraham asked, “To me, you are a creature.” 

“I would prefer my name. It’s Dorian by the way. Like the novel. No need to worry about all the fancy titles. My sister cares for them more than I do.” he stood, stalking forward. 

Abraham took a step back, his hand dropping to the dagger at his belt as the creature loomed over him. He leaned forward until they were almost nose to nose. “Go on, say it.”  
Dorian… such a normal name. “It doesn’t suit you.” Abraham said. He pressed his hand to Dorian’s chest, pushing him out of the way. He could breathe easier as he stepped into the center of the room.

“Are you always this rude, or is it just me?” Dorian asked. 

“Have you done anything to earn politeness?”

“Perhaps not, but I certainly haven’t earned your ire.”

Abraham glared at him. He didn’t understand why he was here. He didn’t want to be. He’d chosen his path at a young age, dedicating himself to the Holy Empire of Tinian. It had been several hundred years since the disease had spread like a miasma in Aberon, their closest neighbors. Many theorized that it was the result of demonic influences. Those affected were unable to go out in sunlight, and consumed only human blood. It was an act that the church taught killed the human donor as these creatures went on a feeding frenzy. The people affected were gifted unnatural beauty, a trap to draw their victims in so that they could sate their hunger. Most damning of all was their apparent immortality. The disease stopped all aging in its tracks and if left unculled, they did not wither and die as humans did. 

It had been the Church that had discovered that they were repelled by the prescience of the gods, and had sanctioned knights to dispatch any that crossed the border into Tinian. 

It had been their influence that had discovered the link between soul and blood. These vampires were said to have had their immortal souls drained, creating more of themselves if they drained their victims and filled their empty vessels with demonic power. They were no better than common demons - a mimicry of life. 

“No answer?” Dorian’s lips curled in disgust, “Actually, I don’t care. I’m feeling peckish, and have a date with our lovely host.” 

“You what?” 

“I’ll be bringing her back here, so unless you like watching,” his gaze slid down Abraham’s body, “I would leave.” 

Abraham’s stomach dropped. He was moving, placing his palm flat on the door. His dagger was out, pointed at the vampire. The image of the woman’s mutilated corpse, blood soaking into the mattress while the creature sat amongst the gore bloated with its feast made his stomach turn. “If you lay a hand on her-”

“You’ll what? Break your oath? Disobey your master. You were told to protect me, Abraham, and all you’ve done is threaten and starve me.” Dorian rolled his eyes. He stepped forward again until the point of the blade pressed against his chest. “Do you know when the last time I ate? Three weeks. Now, my control is strong but it’s not unbreakable. At this moment, I still have enough of my faculties to drink without killing her. That image that you’ve got dancing in your head will come to pass if you continue to deny me my meals.” 

“I won’t let you condemn some innocent woman to eternal damnation for your own needs.” 

Dorian closed his eyes, taking a slow breath before he spoke, “Two things: First, the woman is not as innocent as she appears. She obtained this inn by murdering her husband. According to your gods, she’s already damned and nothing I do is going to worsen that.” Abraham froze, and he continued, “And second, even if she was innocent, my taking a bit of blood is not going to harm her body or soul, but it will allow the next person I come across to keep their life.” 

“Your kind kill when they feed,” Abraham said stiffly. He’d put himself in an awful position. Dorian loomed over him, and pressed against the wall as he was, he couldn’t even open the door and get some more room. “And even if you didn’t, taking blood takes the soul and-”

“For a vampire hunter, you don’t know much about vampires.” Dorian’s tone was heavy with exasperation. “Though I guess you don’t have to know much about us to kill us. Listen to me,” His hand shot out, cool fingers gripping the knight’s wrist tight enough to grind the bones together until the blade clattered to the floor. Abraham jerked in his grasp, grimacing in pain, “Your soul and your blood are not the same thing, and stop fucking struggling and listening to me. I understand, your faith has rotted the brains from your skull and turned you into a murderer.”

“Only one of us here is a murderer.” he shot back, and Dorian bared his fangs.

“I am trying to be patient because I understand that your bias against me is not entirely your own, but you are making it very difficult.” Dorian let go of his wrist and Abraham swung, meeting only empty air as the creature danced back, too fast to track. “What do you propose then? If you insist on starving me, then don’t be surprised if you awake to find my teeth in your neck.” 

Abraham’s skin went ashen. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Well, if I’m truly the monster you think I am, then it should come as no surprise.” Dorian’s fangs were bared, but there was a tightness around his eyes that could almost pass for human. If Abraham didn’t know any better, he would have called him desperate. “I suppose the point is moot now. The sun is set to rise soon. I will be taking the bed.” Dorian stalked over to the large bed. He didn’t spare Abraham a glance as he worked at the laces of his clothes. His outer layer shed slowly, revealing a thin, almost translucent shirt underneath. The room suddenly felt warmer as the vampire pulled the crimson ribbon out of his hair, letting dark, glossy curls tumble down his back.

Abraham blinked and forced himself to look away. He was tired. They’d been on the road for a long time, and he’d been on edge since they left. “You don’t need a comfortable place to sleep.” He grumbled as he spread his bedroll out in front of the door. During his hunts, he’d found vampires in all sorts of uncomfortable positions, not the least of which was shoved into a wine barrel, seemingly dead to the world once the sun rose. 

“You’re welcome to join me.” Dorian’s soft voice drifted from the bed, but there was no bite to his words. 

Abraham laid there on the floor, listening for the moment the sound of breathing finally stilled. He was jealous of how easily the creature was able to slip away as the sound of people just below them drifted through the cracks in the floor. He laid there for a long time, waiting for sleep to drag him under. He glared at the covered window. How could the vampire be so confident that he wouldn’t kill him while he slept? If their positions were reversed, Abraham would not be so trusting. It was only the thought of going back to the Bishop and explaining that he’d failed that stilled his hand. 

The Bishop had the gift of insight. He would know if the vampire had died by Abraham’s hand. He’d always taken his vows seriously. It bothered him that he didn’t know why he was escorting a vampire, but he trusted the people that gave him his orders. They had a reason for this. The war between their nations had stretched on since well before he’d been born. He’d grown up hearing the horror stories of what life was like for towns on the border. No amount of guard could stop a lone creature from slipping over and glutting themselves on their human prey. Abraham had been called into such cases. He’d seen the carnage of towns made empty, humans used as cattle or turned into creatures like themselves Aberon’s lands were slowly creeping eastward as The Empire’s people were turned into monsters and the Church were left to decide if they should wipe out the town to stop the spread. Abraham had been sent on those missions to. It was difficult to harden his heart against the thoughts that only days before, the creatures he was killing had been human. 

It had taken him a long time of talking to the Bishop to realize that he was freeing them from an eternity of damnation. Abraham rolled over. From his spot on the floor, he could see the lump of Dorian under the blanket. It was still. No breath, no small movements in it’s sleep. Abraham scowled again and rolled over. Exhaustion overtook him, and Abraham slept soundly. His dreams were filled with dark eyes and sharp fangs. 

***

It was nearly dusk when he trudged downstairs. The barkeep was a different woman than the night before, though they had the same green eyes that made him wonder if they were related. He’d left his armor upstairs, but the emblem marking him as a knight of the church was pinned to his sweater. If that wasn’t enough, the sword at his hip, inscribed with the words of the Ivocation, was proof enough.

“Good afternoon, ser.” She said as Abraham took a seat at the bar. She pressed two fingers to her forehead and drew them down to her lips, a sign of blessing. “What can I get for you?” 

He ordered his food absently, tossing coins onto the bar. “Not a lot of people here.” he said, looking around the empty room.

“No, ser,” She replied, setting a mug of ale down in front of him. “Not many people come through here around dark.” 

“Have you had trouble through here lately?” 

“No, not here, ser, but the roads are dangerous these days. It’s been bad for business.” 

“The woman I spoke to last night said that you were full.” 

The woman bit her lip, “Ma said that you and your friend came here pretty late. She was surprised to see you so late. I think she was convinced you were some demon come to kill us all. Your friend really spooked her, but I told her if you really were a knight, you wouldn’t be traveling with a leech.” 

A soft laugh drifted from over Abraham’s shoulder, and he tensed. Dorian looked as he always did. His clothes were tightly laced, covering nearly every inch of his skin. The dark fabric was a sharp contrast to his pale skin. His hair was contained by a crimson ribbon, tumbling down his back like a cascade of ink. “What a ridiculous idea.” He said, settling into the seat beside Abraham, “To think that a knight of the holy church would travel with a monster. Isn’t that right, Ser Radcliff.” There was no hint of fang when he smiled. 

“Good evening, sir.” the barmaid said, offering him a bright smile. There was a hungry look in her eyes as they moved over the vampire. Abraham wondered how she could be so calm. Surely she could notice the signs that this thing wasn’t human. Were they not looking at the same thing? Dorian looked far too regal, too perfect to be anything other than a monster. “Is this your-”

“Companion, yes.” Abraham cut her off. He took a healthy swig of his ale. 

“Right, well, is there anything I can get for you sir?” Abraham’s mouth turned down in displeasure. She leaned forward on the bar, her bodice falling open slightly. 

Dorian pretended to think, tapping a finger on his lips. “Do you come on the menu?” He asked, leaning forward slightly. 

Abraham slammed his hand on the bar, making his plate rattle. “We’re leaving.” he said harshly. 

He glared at the vampire, daring him to argue. Dark eyes turned towards him and Dorian shrugged, “Perhaps another time, my dear.” 

It was Dorian that stood first, going upstairs as quickly as he’d come. Abraham turned to the girl, her brows drawn together in confusion. “I’m sorry.” he said quickly, tossing back the rest of his drink and swiping the pie he’d ordered to wrap it in a cloth he pulled from his pocket. He took the stairs two at a time. Pushing the door open, he was greeted by the sight of Dorian, his lips curled in disgust. 

“Are you trying to make me kill someone.” he demanded, “Are you trying to prove your point that all of us are monsters or are you just looking for an excuse to put me down?” 

“You asked to eat a woman in front of me after she just got finished saying that you’re not a monster.” 

“I don’t know how to explain it to you so that you’ll understand. I need to feed, and if you’re unwilling to allow me to damn someone else, then perhaps we can compromise.” 

“I’m listening.” Abraham crossed his arms over his chest. He’d rather come up with something, rather than wake up to find the vampire gnawing on him. 

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you and your fellow knights are immune from sin.” Dorian began. 

He nodded. As part of their vows, knights of his order were blessed and absolved of all sin, allowing them to do their work without worrying about their mortal soul.

“Then, if I drank from you, you wouldn’t be at risk.” Abraham froze, his heart constricting. “Don’t you have purifying rituals anyway. You can just take care of yourself and then we both win. I get to not go mad from bloodlust, and you get to protect those supposed victims you’re so concerned about.” 

“And how do I know you won’t kill me?” He demanded.

Dorian’s eyebrows shot up, “I expected a ‘fuck no,’ but if you’re willing to consider it, then I’d let you hold onto that dagger of yours. If I take too much, you’re welcome to stab me and scurry back to your master to tell him I attacked you.” 

“Absolutely not,” Abraham’s expression hardened.

“Come now, at least think about it. I am going to feed one way or another.” Dorian went to pack his bag, barely looking his direction, “Regardless of your feelings on it, I’m not as comfortable with murder as you are. I will sate myself before I get to a point where I am ravenous. If you really are so concerned with me damning someone innocent to an eternal torment or whatever it is your master says happens to sinners, then I would think you’d jump at the chance to save them.” He shouldered the bag, turning back towards him, “Well, I would hate to make a liar out of you, and I’d like to reach somewhere safe before daybreak, so let’s move.”  
Abraham’s tongue felt heavy, any argument he had died on his lips. He changed quickly, fixing his leather armor in place and hefting his bag onto his back. After saddling their horses and giving a final tip to the stablehand, the pair were off. 

***

They rode in a tense silence. The barkeep hadn’t been lying when she’d said that the roads were empty. As the night wore on, they saw fewer and fewer travelers until finally, when the moon was at its highest, it was just them, driving themselves towards the nearest town.

Abraham pulled the pie out of his pocket, tearing into it. It was cold, and the gravy had congealed, but it was food. He followed it up with a swig from his flask, catching Dorian watching him. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “Can I help you?” 

“Will you tell me about yourself?” Dorian asked. 

“Pardon?”

The vampire’s exasperated sigh drifted through the night air, “Tell me about yourself. We’ve been traveling together for a few nights and you’ve done nothing but glare at me. Surely you have more to your life than murdering my kind.” 

Abraham glared ahead of them at the empty road. He was tired, hungry, and cranky. It had been a long few days, and it seemed the creature was intent on making their time miserable. It was going to be a long night, and would be made even longer by the silence. “I gave myself to the gods when I was young,” he began, scratching his nose, “They trained me to protect people. I enjoyed my work.” His gaze flickered towards the vampire and back to the road. “Is that what you want to hear?”  
Dorian shrugged. “So you were raised as a killer then? No family? No loved ones? Do you have a wife?” He offered Abraham a smile full of fang, “A husband, perhaps?” 

“I was not raised as a killer.” Abraham countered sharply, “I was raised to protect humans. My family was killed when I was younger. We lived in Oakwood,” the sound of Dorian’s sharp breath made him smile, “I don’t remember it.” That wasn’t entirely true. He sometimes had dreams. He could smell the blood, could see pale faces, like angelic beings hovering above him. If he really listened, the screams of the dying echoed in his head. “Why are you asking me this? Can’t you just peer into my head?” 

“It’s rude.” Dorian said. He bit his lip, dark eyes trained forward, “I don’t like prying into people’s minds without permission.” There was another stretch of silence, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were from Oakwood.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m trying to prevent it from happening again.” 

“Not all of us are like that,” the defensiveness in his voice made Abraham grit his teeth.

“But you have the potential to be.” He countered, “It’s why I don’t understand why the church is so willing to negotiate now.” It had been a month since a human ambassador from Aberon had approached Tinian’s King Junya, bearing the seal of the Red Queen. She wanted to negotiate, to broker a peace between their nations and stop the hundred years of fighting. She offered to host peace talks in neutral land. The king, and by extension the church, had agreed.

“Perhaps not everyone is as bloodthirsty as you are.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked me why you’re traveling with me to begin with.” 

“Would you tell me if I did?” 

“Maybe.” 

Abraham let the silence stretch between them, shooting an expectant look towards his traveling companion. “Well?” 

“Oh, is that you asking?” Dorian’s laugh was a harsh, scraping sound. “How about I make you a deal, you open a vein for me and I’ll spill all my secrets for you. I can promise they’re worth hearing. They’re something you will be very interested in.” 

“Are you really that desperate?” 

“Wouldn’t you be after three weeks without food? I’m willing to suck your cock if you’d let me bite your thigh while I did it.” 

Abraham’s face flushed, and he shifted in the saddle, a tight feeling building in his chest. “Are you always so crude?” 

“When you’ve lived as long as I have, the sin of lust becomes less and less important.” 

Silence again while Abraham turned the offer over in his head. He had no doubt that the vampire knew why he was so important, but it was a steep price to pay, just for information. Was it too costly to save someone else? He pondered that as well. Eventually, Dorian would need to feed. He’d made it apparent that he would do it with or without Abraham’s permission. He’d rather not have human blood on his hands. It was bad enough when he’d had to put down humans that had been enthralled by the vampires. There were those that had willingly gone to them, to be used as cattle. In return, they lived like royalty, cared for and pampered like pets. He’d heard the stories of what happened in Aberon’s capital, of the public displays of sex, humans strung up to be toyed with or fed from. He’d had to slay those on the border that had fallen under their control, he didn’t know if he could live with himself if he had another option and allowed an innocent person to be damned anyway. 

“I’ll do it.” He said softly, gripping the reigns tighter. 

Beside him, Dorian stiffed, his body losing it’s parody of life. “You will?” There was a hint of strain in his voice. Betraying his desperation more than anything.

“Under two conditions.” 

“Anything.” 

Abraham held up a finger, “You tell me what this is all about,” he held up a second, “I hold onto my weapon. If I even get a hint that you are trying to kill me, then I will put you down, my oath be damned.” 

“Of course.” Dorian flicked the reins, spurring his horse faster. “If we take a small detour, there’s an inn we can stop at for the night a few miles away.”

Before he could protest, Dorian had already sped into a gallop, leaving Abraham to follow after.

***  
True to his word, there was a small inn tucked just off the main road. Abraham didn’t know how he’d known about it, but honestly, he didn’t care. They got a room from a grumpy looking man and Dorian all but raced up the stairs. The door had barely closed behind them when the vampire whirled on him. Abraham’s hand dropped to his dagger, staring into Dorian’s eyes bright with hunger. 

“Relax. I’m not going to jump on you.” the vampire said, though he looked like her very much wanted to. “Are you sure about this? I don’t like taking from those that don’t consent.” 

“Can we just get this over with?” Abraham demanded. He didn’t want to drag this out.

“Just give me a yes or no, Ser Radcliff.” 

“Yes.” 

“Good,” the relief in Dorian’s voice made Abraham shiver. “Good, then take off your armor and sit down on the chair.” 

Abraham bit back a retort. He stalked over to the corner of the room. The buckles of his armor parted under his touch, and he set his dagger on the mantle. When he stood in only his breeches and a loose tunic, he turned back to Dorian. The creature was watching him, a feverish heat glowing in his eyes. “How do I know you can control yourself now?” 

“Because you have my word, and if I don’t...” he motioned to the dagger on the mantle. 

Abraham pulled it from its sheath and sat with the naked blade across his lap. He listened for the vampire. He didn’t know if the creature was deliberately trying to move quietly, or if it was just forgetting to make itself appear more human in its excitement. All the same, he could sense it behind him, a spot where the air was too cold, too still. He tensed, waiting to feel it grab him and rip his head to the side. 

He flinched when he felt cool hands on his shoulders, squeezing gently. “At least try to relax.” Dorian whispered. He squeezed again, “Please, you have my word that I won’t hurt you,” Abraham opened his mouth, and Dorian squeezed harder, “and yes, that I will not seek anyone else out while I’m in your company.” 

Abraham closed his mouth, letting out a shaking breath. Those cool hands slid upwards, tracing along the back of his neck. One sharp nail slid along his hairline, drawing a shiver from the knight. He squeezed his eyes shut. He could imagine Dorian behind him, his beautiful, aristocratic face twisted in hunger, becoming more monstrous as it leaned forward. The hand moved upwards, along the shaved sides of his head to tangle in the longer curls on top. 

“Relax” Dorian breathed. His cold breath tickled across Abraham’s skin as he pulled his head gently to the side. Abraham’s fingers tightened on the dagger. His heart was pounding, his body stiff with anticipation.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day two is complete!

The bite sent a shock of pain through him. Abraham jerked in Dorian’s grasp, and the hand tightened in his hair. An arm like an iron band wrapped around his chest, pinning his arms to his sides and crushing him back against the seat. Abraham gasped, twisting to get free only for Dorian to grip him tighter. Something hot seared into his skin, flowing down his neck in rivlets and seeping into the wound. It made his skin itch, as if it were drawing too tight. His mind zeroed in on the agony as it reached its crux. Lips locked onto the skin around the wound, and he shattered, his entire body tensing as liquid fire coursed through his veins.   
Abraham stiffened, every cell in his body going haywire as if he’d been struck by lightning. He tipped his head backwards, and the arm around his chest loosened. Dorian pressed a palm flat to his chest, just over his wildly beating heart. A soft sound of pleasure slipped from the vampire. Soft fingers combed through his hair. It sent shocks of pleasure through tingling down the back of his neck. Abraham’s mouth fell open. He was panting softly, and those fingers repeated the movement, one sharp nail tracing along the shell of his ear. 

A particularly hard suck had him gasping. He could feel Dorian’s tongue pressing into the wound, the pressure of it a shock to the senses, but it only added to the heat that was sparking along his skin. It took every ounce of self-control he still possessed to stop himself from moaning at the sensation. His feet shifted restlessly, the heels of his boots tapping against the chair legs. A hand dropped to his thigh, squeezing tightly. 

“No…” Abraham painted, shaking his head to knock the hand off. For one wild moment, he thought the vampire would keep going. He could imagine the hand moving upwards, sliding between his legs. The thought sent heat and revulsion spiraling through him again. 

Dorian released him slowly. His lips unlocked from his neck, but the hand on his chest tightened briefly, stopping Abraham from tipping forward. The loss of contact made him feel cold, with only the hand over his heart as a point of contact. “Easy…” Dorian whispered. His voice was wet, his lips smacking slightly as he pressed them to the wound. He kissed Abraham’s skin like a lover, tenderly. His tongue pressed again to the wound, spreading something wet across it. Abraham felt a strange pulling sensation, and he reached up to touch. His hand came away red, but the skin felt whole and unbroken. 

Dorian was still wrapped around him. He’d dropped his other arm around his shoulders. Abraham was shaking. His head dropped forward to watch as those delicate hands smooth down his chest. They were almost warm. If it weren’t for the sharper nails, he would have believed it was a human touching him. With his legs spread like this, there was no hiding the tightness of his pants. Abraham jerked in Dorian’s grasp, and this time the vampire let him. He tipped forward, the room swimming at the sudden movement. 

“Don’t touch me.” he said. 

His ears were ringing, but he could hear footsteps retreating, followed by the sound of the door closing. Abraham reached up to touch his neck again. It was sticky, but it didn’t hurt. Getting his feet under him was a chore, but he managed to stumble to his bag, pulling out a small mirror he used for shaving. His image wavered as he held it in shaking hands. His neck and shoulder were smeared with red, and his tunic was torn along the shoulder seam. He didn’t remember Dorian pulling on it. The skin, however, was unbroken.

Abraham’s fingers were clumsy as he pulled at the stopper of his waterskin, soaking a scrap piece of cloth to wipe away the blood. The door opened again, and he flinched, his hand dropping to his belt out of habit. Dorian closed the door with a push of his hip, his hands filled with a tray. He stalked across the room, setting it down on the small table with a sharp click. “Come here.” he ordered, and Abraham glared at him, scrubbing at his skin. “Don’t give me that look. You will pass out if you’re not careful, and I won’t have that on my conscience.” 

The smell of stew made his stomach grumble, and Abraham tossed the wet cloth aside with a wet slap. “What did you do to me?” he asked, looking at what was on the tray. The scent of the stew and a warm crust of bread made his stomach grumble again. Dorian pulled the stopper off of a jug, pouring him something that smelled strongly of fruit.   
“Drink.” He pushed the cup into Abraham’s hand, watching with hard black eyes as he took a sip. The juice was cool and sweet. He tipped his head back, draining the rest in one go. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so thirsty. Dorian poured him another cup, a grim smile on his face. “Good. How are you feeling? Dizzy? Cold?”   
“What did you do to me,” Abraham repeated firmly. The heat had solidified into something heavy in his stomach. 

“I took quite a bit of blood.” Dorian replied simply. He’d taken the seat across the table, watching Abraham with large, dark eyes. His face was less pale. There was a healthy flush to his skin, and his lips looked redder and more full. “Unless you’re talking about the reaction you had to the bite, which… please tell me I don’t have to have a talk with you about sex. Surely your church covers something, no matter how prudish they are.” 

“I know what sex is.” Abraham snapped. He scooped up the hunk of bread, ripping it in half. He dug his fingers into the center and ripped out the soft middle, dipping it in the stew.

“Then you understand what arousal is.” 

“Yes, but why?”

“Maybe you just enjoyed it that much,” Dorian said. He leaned forward, lips curling into a smile. There was blood in his teeth. “Surprising really, considering you’re supposed to be this big bad vampire hunter. Maybe all the murder has warped your libido.” 

Abraham’s teeth ground together. He was tired. He’d been tired since he’d started this journey. “You did something to me. I felt it. It hurt and then it didn’t.” 

Dorian shrugged, his expression offering nothing. “If you must know, we have a compound in our saliva… a venom of sorts. It can paralyze the person we’re feeding on, and often induces feelings of pleasure. It numbs the site of the wound as well.” 

“And you didn’t think to warn me?” Abraham felt disgusting. He’d taken a vow of chastity, one that he intended to keep. 

“I didn’t think it was relevant. It’s not as if I touched you. Your virtue is safe.” 

But he’d been about to. Abraham could still feel that grip on his thigh. His body flushed. It had taken everything he had to say no. If Dorian hadn’t listened… would he have fought back? Shaking his head, he looked down at his food. “Well, I hope you got what you needed.” he said coldly. “I believe you owe me an explanation.” 

Dorian hummed in response. He sat back again, crossing one leg over the other. His hair was down, falling over his shoulders. “Later.” He ran his tongue over his teeth.

“That wasn’t our deal.” 

“You didn’t specify when I had to tell you.” There was a glint in his eye. Abraham slammed his fist on the table, but Dorian only gave him a cool, appraising look. “It’s not my fault you’re a bad negotiator. Besides, we’re only three days into our trip. It takes at least two months to get to Aberon, and another three weeks from there to get to the capitol. That’s a long time to go without feeding.” 

“That wasn’t what we agreed to.” Abraham repeated, his voice rising louder, “I let you take a part of my soul.”

“Relax,” Dorian waved his hand, “Don’t get your underclothes in a twist. I will tell you when we’re closer to the border,” he grinned, uncrossing his legs and spreading them suggestively, “Though I could be persuaded to tell you tomorrow.” 

“You’re disgusting.” Abraham snapped. He downed the last of his glass and stalked towards the bed. “I’m taking the bed today.” He was tired, and like hell was he going to sleep on the floor. He scooped up his dagger on his way past, pausing only to grab the small book of prayers from his bag. 

“Abraham...” Dorian said, his voice soft. He seemed to catch himself, “Ser Radcliff, I meant no disrespect. You will have your answers soon, but there are too many ears.”   
There was something vulnerable in those dark eyes, and Abraham froze, halfway to taking off his boots. “If you expect to have more of my blood, I had better get them.” 

That beautiful face froze, sharp teeth sinking into his lips, “You would give me more?” He couldn’t have been sure he heard the voice. It seemed to fizzle and die before it had even hit the air.

Abraham chose not to answer. He tucked himself into the bed, making sure to lay so that there was only room for one of them. He shoved his dagger under his pillow, and opened his prayer book. He didn’t know when he drifted off, only that he woke sometime midday to find his book carefully wrapped in cloth and set on the nightstand. He could make out the shape of Dorian, sitting against the wall furthest from the bed with a blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 3! 1,728 words!

Abraham was still tired as he dragged himself from the bed. He would have given almost anything to be able to sleep more, but he could see light seeping from under the crack in the door. The tantalizing promise of sun and human interaction gave him the strength to shake off the cobwebs of sleep. He reached over to his bedside and the candle sprang to life with a whispered prayer. 

Across the room, he could see Dorian. The light cast shadows over his still face, making him look more human than he had any right to be. Abraham’s eyes traced the soft curve of his lips, parted just enough to reveal sharp fangs. The memory of them digging into his neck as iron-like arms held him still made his heart flutter. He felt disgusted with himself. He’d let the creature take something from him. He’d sacrificed a part of his immortal soul for what? Taunts and information he’d yet to receive. The ghost of heat sparked in his stomach. 

Despite the fact that Dorian had insisted that his virtue was still intact, it had been a long time since Abraham had felt any kind of stirring. Arousal itself was not a sin, but acting on it was. He knew his place in the afterlife was secured all the same, but the whole experience left him feeling dirty. Cursing under his breath, Abraham padded over to his bag. He made a point of not looking at Dorian as he scooped up his mirror once more. His skin was still flecked with dried blood. Abraham wet a cloth again, scrubbing at it gently.   
The skin underneath was badly bruised. It looked like a lover’s mark, only adding to the intimate comparisons. 

Abraham changed his shirt quickly, picking one that was more in the Aberon style with a high, tightly laced collar and long sleeves. It was nicer than what he normally wore, better suited for when he was infiltrating a vampire’s lair than a long day on the road. He hated how tight and restricting it felt, and wondered briefly how Dorian managed to wear it every day. Abraham belted his dagger in place and satisfied he wasn’t going to frighten anyone, slipped out of the room, careful not to open the door too wide. As it clicked shut behind him, he heard a sleepy sigh follow after him. 

Abraham’s jaw tightened at the sound of chatter around the inn as he stepped into the main room. Even before he’d started traveling with Dorian, he’d spend much of his time traveling at night. No one looked his way, but he struggled to keep his expression neutral as he approached the bar. “Good afternoon,” he said. 

The man turned his gaze towards him, and Dorian resisted the urge to reach up and touch his neck to ensure that the bruise was covered. “Afternoon, ser.” The man eyed the emblem pinned to his shirt. “What can I do for you?” 

“Where is the closest church?” he asked. The slick tension in his stomach twisted. If it hadn’t been for the candle responding to his touch, he would have assumed it was the gods retracting the power they’d given him. 

“About half a day’s ride in Ridgecrest.” He pointed in the direction Abraham had been traveling from. 

He cursed silently. He would have preferred to visit a proper church but he didn’t want to risk not being here when Dorian woke. “Do you have an altar, then?

“Yes, ser.” The main jerked a thumb behind him, “There’s one just inside the treeline. Kept by yours truly.” 

It would have to do. “Thank you.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a few gold and sliding it across the table. “A donation for your service.”

“That’s very kind of you, ser.” the man pocketed the gold, “Is there anything I can get for you? On the house, of course. It’s not often we get knights coming through here.” 

Abraham thought for a moment, “If I’m not back by the time my companion wakes, tell him where I am.” He gave a quick description of Dorian before hurrying out. 

The air was sticky with heat as he crossed the yard towards the nearby forest. Sweat trickled down his back, and he was breathing hard. The collar of his shirt felt too tight, pressing against his throat every time he drew in a breath. Still, the sun touching his face was a welcome treat. He followed the footpath down a gentle slope. A small stone building stood among the trees. The path was thick with the crunch of leaves underfoot, but it gave way to a perfectly clear stretch of land.

Abraham felt a familiar tingle move along his spine. The ground here was perfectly smooth, as if some great being had molded it like clay. There wasn’t a twig out of place, not a blade of grass disturbed. The air was cooler here, almost the same temperature as skin so that if he were undressed, he would feel neither hot nor cold. Abraham pressed two fingers to his forehead and drew them down to his lips before pressing his palm flat to his chest as he approached the building. 

It was perfectly maintained. The stone was cut in clean, straight lines, and held none of the discoloration from being exposed to the elements. The windows, depicting the story of the Twins, were spotless. There wasn’t a speck of dirt on the outside, despite the fact that the forest was overgrown just outside this circle of land. Abraham paused at the door, carefully stacking them along the outside wall. The floor was cool under his feet, and that tingle grew stronger. He could feel it in his bones. It whispered to the well of divine magic inside of him. 

For the first time since he’d left the grand cathedral, Abraham felt safe. The room itself was small. There was no pews, only a single cushion set at the foot of an altar. Abraham knelt. Statues of the Twins stood above him, their heads turned downwards, hands outstretched as if reaching for him. On the altar was two bowls, one at the foot of each of the gods, and between them a dagger nearly identical to the one he carried. 

Abraham picked up the dagger, leaning up to hold his left hand over the dish at the foot of the male twin, “O’ father sun, Nelios, I give in offering to your eternal flame, that my soul might bathe in your light, and be granted your protection.” His skin tingled as he sliced into his palm. He let a few drops fall, the stone hissing when his blood touched it. There was a soft sputtering sound and a gentle fire crackled in the bottom. Abraham whispered a silent thanks and the skin of his palm pulled and puckered, the wound closing.   
He switched his grip on the dagger, and hovered his right hand over the second dish. “O’ mother moon, Itris, I give in offering to your endless ocean. From your waters I was birthed, and to them I shall return.” He sliced into his skin, and the bowl filled with clean, cool water the moment his blood touched it’s bottom. The unlight that streamed through the window seemed brighter as he bowed his head. 

Had he been at a church, the priest would have asked him to unburden himself that he might seek guidance from the gods, but alone, it was only him, and his own faith. “I come to you in search of forgiveness. I have committed many sins.” He paused, shame making his throat tight, “I have allowed a creature to take my blood, have spilled my soul for something that was not your divinity. I have committed the sin of lust, having felt arousal during the act. I have sullied my oaths in allowing a creature turned from your light to walk the earth. I have doubted a high priest, questioned his faith and the orders you bestowed on him.” 

The silence was deafening, the air thick as if some prescience were filling the room. Abraham sank forward, he palms flat on the warm stone. “I beg forgiveness, that you may continue to grant me the power to protect your children. I beg for guidance that I may understand why this creature must live.” 

Abraham’s voice was soft and shaking. He sank into a meditation, words pulling from him while the gods watched. The ache in his knees drew him out of his reprieve, and he blinked. The altar was lit only by the still flickering flame of Nelios, but the sun had long since set. He climbed to his feet, knees popping. He pressed his fingers to his lips, and then his forehead, closing the ritual as he stepped out of the building. Shoving his feet into his boots, he stepped out of the consecrated ground. 

He felt lighter than he had since he started this journey. Unburdening himself always left him feeling better and closer to the Twins. Not even the thought that they would have to spend another night here to stave off being caught outside when the sun rose. He saw the shadow moving out of the corner of his eyes only a breath before he darted towards him. Abraham turned and drew his dagger. A prayer burst from his lips and he turned, hand glowing orange with flame. 

The light cast shadows on the creature’s face. Dorian raised his hands in surrender, taking a deliberate step backwards. “I apologize.” he said quickly, “I only came to wait for you. I thought you might have run off and left me behind with how long you took.” 

“You followed me out here?” the lightness in his chest hardened and sank like a pit in his stomach. 

“You did tell the barkeeper to tell me where you were. Don’t worry, I wasn’t listening. Consecrated ground and all. It’s very effective at keeping me out.” When Abraham didn’t respond he lowered his hands. Dorian stepped past him, heading back up the path. “I’m going to assume it’s too late to set out tonight, considering you’ve yet to eat. I’ve already paid for our room through tomorrow, so feel free to enjoy it. Spend some time around people. I know I will.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4. 1624 Words! I'm officially over 10k words on this project!

The chatter of the room was a welcome balm to the itchiness Dorian had felt buzzing in his head near the altar. He’d never minded crowds of people. Sure, when he’d been turned, it had taken him months to learn how to cope with hearing people’s most personal thoughts, but he’d enjoyed it all the same. He always craved intimacy, and there were few things more intimate than peeling back the facade and seeing what was underneath. It had been a gift from his Mother. Despite his taunts towards Ser Radcliff, not every vampire could peer into minds, only those of his Mother’s line had that particular gift. 

His boots clicked on the rough wooden floor as he stepped into the Inn. He felt eyes turn towards him. He could see himself in their eyes, a beautiful creature. The barkeep wondered if he was human. His skin was warmer than it had been when they’d arrived the night before, but it still had a pale stillness that was just this side of uncanny. A man sitting in the far corner looked towards him and wondered if he was male or female. His gaze lingered on Dorian’s chest, as if he could see breasts underneath his clothes. That never failed to make Dorian uncomfortable, but he’d heard that thought so many times that he was mostly numb to it.

Abraham peeled off as soon as they entered, and Dorian watched him go. Conflict warred in the knight’s head. He was a little shocked that Ser Radcliff hated him so. He’d known when he’d been passed off to him, that he would have to deal with his hostility. His companion wasn’t as infamous as the Von Helsings, and not nearly that dangerous. He had his own threat, but of all the knights to accompany him, at least the church had picked one with honor. No matter how many times Dorian had pushed him, he’d done little more than flirt with the idea of murdering him. 

Abraham had potential, if he could look past his hatred for vampires, he might even be an invaluable ally. Things were made more difficult, knowing that he’d been present at the Tragedy of Oakwood. He couldn’t blame him for his hatred. Abraham was young enough that he had to have been a child. Even the Red Queen had condemned the slaughter that had happened that night. Dorian shook his head, that was something to ponder later. He stepped towards the bar, ordering himself a glass of red wine. What he was given was cheap, something that any innkeeper in Abron would be ashamed to sell, but the scent of it was divine. Dorian took a small sip, rolling it on his tongue. He wished he was home, where fresh blood would have been added, but he would take what he could get now. 

Dorian sauntered over to the man who had been eyeing him before. He had turned back to his card game. There were four of them there. He met the man’s gaze with a sultry smile, lips positioned to hide his fangs. “Good evening, gentleman.” Dorian’s voice was a soft tenor, doing little to dispel his androgyny. 

“Good evening… sir?” The confusion in his voice made Dorian’s chest squeeze. At least he acknowledged him as a man. That was something. 

“Might I join you?” He asked, sliding onto the bench before he got an answer. “You can call me Dorian. Like the novel.” He laughed at his own private joke, offering the man his hand. 

“West,” The man said, shaking it. He was a large man, a scar puckering the corner of his mouth into a permanent smirk. “This is Ardyn, and Emil.” He nodded to his companions. “The quiet one in the corner is Logan.” Guardsmen then. A quick look into their minds confirmed as much. They were off duty, having been sent to patrol the cluster of villages close to the lord’s estate.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Dorian took another sip of his drink. “What are you playing?”

“King’s Ten,” this came from Emil. He was younger than the rest. There was an optimism in his thoughts that Dorian found endearing. Or, maybe it was just the freckles. Dorian had always had a weakness for freckles. “Should we deal you a hand?”

“I’m afraid I’ve never played,” Dorian lied, leaning forward, “You’ll have to teach me the rules.” 

Emil flushed, looking into Dorian’s dark eyes. “R-right.” He managed, reaching for the deck of cards and nearly knocking over his cup in the process. “Well it’s really quite simple,” Dorian let him explain the rules, encouraging him when his companions heckled him. 

He played a few hands, purposefully losing the first two, his brows drawn together in frustration. “I’m sorry… I’m afraid I’m not good at this.” He said. “Do you mind explaining it to me again? Here-” he waved down the barkeep, ordering another round of drinks for the table. He offered Emil a shy smile, “As thanks, of course.”   
“It’s all right!” Emil said too quickly. 

West scoffed, “Keep it in your pants kid.” It seemed that he’d lost interest in Dorian, realizing he was a man. 

“So,” Dorian picked up his second glass, “What are you gentlemen doing out here?” 

“We’re part of the patrols in this area,” Emil said proudly, touching the crest pinned to his shirt. 

Beside him, Ardyn rolled his eyes, “We’re with Lord Stavach.” 

“Such a lofty position.” Dorian said, his eyes sparkling with interest. “You must see a lot of interesting things on patrol.” 

“We do,” Emil replied, “It’s not so bad though, not as bad as the border. Right Ardyn?” 

He looked to his companion. Ardyn was older than the rest, his face like a map of the mountains. Dorian’s gaze flickered to him. The man was watching him, turning pieces over in his head. Something about Dorian was setting him off. If he’d been on the border, no doubt he’d seen a vampire before. “You must have seen the war first hand. Surely you have an opinion on the peace talks coming up.” 

“I did,” Ardyn replied. He settled back in his seat, eyes on the vampire, “Makes me grateful for the Church and their knights.” 

“You think they’ll be needed once a treaty is signed?” Dorian asked. 

“If a treaty is signed. I don’t trust those creatures to hold up their end.” 

“I do,” Emil chimed in, looking to Dorian for approval.

Ardyn shook his head, “It’s not natural. When do you ever see a predator making peace with its prey. I think the talks are a sham. A trap to get all of our leaders in one place and slaughter them so that they can take over and start farming us for blood.” 

Dorian took a sip of his wine to hide his grimace. If he only knew how right he was. The vampire sat back, letting the conversation unfold around him.   
“I think you’re too blinded by your time on the border,” Emil shot back, “I mean what reason would they have for doing that? Eventually they’re going to run out of people if they just keep killing us, and then they’ll really be in trouble.” 

“And I think you have no way of knowing what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Well, I’m not the only one that thinks so! Lord Stavach himself said that he’d be willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. I was on duty in the manor when he got the summons, I saw it with my own eyes.” 

“And I saw the bloody bitch’s riders come across the border to hunt. They’re running out of people in their own country so they’re hunting in ours.” 

Emil floundered, and Dorian gave him an encouraging smile. “I mean, weren’t these creatures human once? That counts for something, right?” 

Emil nodded enthusiastically, “I heard there’s someone even working on a cure. If they can figure out what caused the disease in the first place-”

“A load of horse shit if you ask me.” Ardyn replied. “These things are demons. They’re dead and they need to be put in the ground where they belong. It’s not a disease, it’s demon summoning. It’s pissing in the Mother’s ocean and getting smacked down for it.”

Dorian grinned, “An apt comparison, I suppose, but what if they did want to negotiate.” 

“The bloody bitch would never. I hear she’s crazier than any of them.” 

Dorian had to stop himself from laughing, hearing the Queen called something do derogatory. He could only imagine how she would retaliate if she heard it. This man wasn’t wrong though. He knew the Queen had no interest in brokering peace. It’s why he needed to get home. She needed a voice of reason. He glanced across the room, where Abraham sat by the fire. The knight was watching him, no doubt wondering if he was planning on breaking their little deal. 

“Well… gentleman, as riveting as this conversation is, I’m afraid I have to go.” Dorian met Abraham’s eyes from across the room, deliberately leaning forward, towards Emil, “It was very nice meeting you. If you ever find yourself closer to the border, find Lord Vida. Tell him I sent you.” 

Rising to his feet, Dorian kept his eyes on Abraham as he crossed the room. The knight was watching his every breath as he mounted the stairs, slipping back into their room. He pulled out a small, leather book from his pack, jotting down what he’d discovered about human’s views on peace. He wanted to have as much information as he could by the time he reached his homeland. It was there that the real battle would begin.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5! 1834 words today! Finally, Dorian and Abraham can maybe start seeing eye to eye

The next few days passed in relative silence. Dorian was waiting for Abraham to ask his questions, but it seemed the Knight was content to sulk. A quick peek into his mind showed that he was silently seething. Dorian was more than willing to let him do it. If he was going to act like a child, then the vampire wasn’t going to offer him any information. It was petty of him, perhaps, but he stood by what he’d said before. The Queen’s ears were everywhere, and her infection spread further than anyone realized.

Two nights on the road had them sleeping outside. They’d come to an inn the first day, but Abraham had claimed two knights of his order were staying here and he refused to be seen traveling with a vampire. Dorian didn’t blame him, but it also meant sleeping outside. He’d left Abraham to set up camp while he’d sought out a soft patch of dirt. His strength and nails were a blessing as he dug himself a hole to hide in. It was distasteful, but far better than getting caught in the sun.

After two days spent sleeping in the dirt, Dorian was desperate for a bath. He’d always been the clean sort, even before he’d been turned, but after, being dirty was unbearable. He could feel every grain of dirt in his hair. There was mud under his fingernails, and his clothes were filthy. Whitebridge rising in the distance was a welcome sight, and Dorian spurred his horse faster. 

The town itself was quite large, set almost directly in the center of the country. It was well on its way to becoming a city proper, with a proper cathedral shining like a glittering jewel in the night. Dorian held back while Abraham handled the guards. He flashed his emblem and passed a letter written by the Bishop in Turncliff. They were waved through without much fuss, but Dorian could feel the guards watching him. The closer they got to the border, the harder it would be to play him off as simply a pale, but attractive human. 

There were people about as they rode through town. Unlike the smaller villages, there wasn’t the overwhelming pressure of fear to drive them inside. All of the guard carried weapons made from silver, and there were several priests and priestesses among the people. They felt safe, and Dorian found it ironic that they’d let him into their midst. He hopped down from his horse to get directions to the nicest inn in town, abused at Abraham’s annoyance. 

The Golden Goose was exactly what he’d expected. It was large, with music spilling from the door when it opened. It seemed to be packed with people, and Abraham’s discomfort tickled in the back of his head. He ignored it, his eyes set on the bathhouse that stood on the property. As always, he let Abraham make the negotiations, interrupting only to ensure that the bath was heated. 

He nearly ran upstairs to drop off their bags, pleasantly surprised that they’d managed to get a room with two beds. “Don’t wait up.” He said, hardly glancing at Abraham as he pulled a small cloth sack from the depths of his pack. Bottles clinked loudly inside. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Are you planning on holding my hand this whole trip?” He snapped. He didn’t want to talk about this, not when the promise of a hot bath was so close.

“If you’re planning on going to feed-”

Dorian let out a growl of frustration, “Is that all you think I do? We had a deal, Ser Radcliff. You might find it difficult to believe, but I am a man of my word. I said I wouldn’t have anyone else while we travel together and I meant it. If you must know, I’m going to make use of their bathhouse. Is that alright with you?”  
Abraham blinked at him, “Oh…” 

“Yes, oh. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Dorian turned on his heel, hurrying out of the room. His footsteps crunched along the path, passing a couple with wet hair who clung to each other, giggling. 

He was thankful that the small changing room in the entryway was empty as he slipped into the men’s side. The laces on his shirt took time to undo, but slowly the fabric parted, revealing scarred, pale flesh. Dorian laid his outershirt in a small cubby, wondering idly if he could find a washerwoman this late to take care of it. His undershirt followed quickly, and he positioned himself so that his back was to the doorway in case anyone stepped in. He unwound the bandages around his chest carefully, rolling his shoulders to relieve the tension. 

He made a point not to look down at his chest as he wound the bandages around his hand and tucked them under the rest of his clothes. It had never bothered him, exactly, to see breasts there, they’d never been large. There was something of a disconnect however, seeing soft flesh where he desperately craved flatness. Becoming a vampire had made it easier. He didn’t need to breathe, so any discomfort from that was a distant memory. The tightness was something he’d gotten used to in the century since he’d started binding his chest. It was never comfortable, exactly, but at least now he didn’t have to worry about the ache in his ribs becoming unbearable. 

Dorian let his hair down, letting it spill down his back as he stepped into the men’s bath chamber. It was a large pool, steam rising from the water. He set the sack on the edge of the pool and stepped inside. A moan slipped from his lips as heat seeped into his skin. He could feel runes carved into the tile under his feet, likely there to keep the water warm and clean. Sinking deeper into the water, Dorian tipped his head back, running his fingers through his hair. 

Dorian took his time in the bath. He dug in his sack of supplies, finding a small bottle filled with a thick liquid. He scrubbed a dollop through his thick curls, feeling the dirt and grime strip away. Dorian was humming softly to himself as he went about his bathing ritual. He rinsed his hair and washed it again, ensuring that there was nothing left in it. He coated his hair in a thicker concoction of his own making. He’d had plenty of time to perfect it when he’d been in the Queen’s court. It made his curls soft and shiny. Grabbing a small cord from his bag, he tied his hair in a loose bun at the nape of his neck to let the treatment sit. 

He was just starting to scrub down his body using a rough cloth when the door to the bath opened. Dorian flinched, “O-oh, I’m sorry ma’am.” Abraham’s voice made him curse. The knight leaned back through the doorway to check that he’d come to the right bath. 

Dorian turned towards him, arms crossed over his chest as he sank down until the water covered his shoulders. “Wrong, Ser Radcliff.” He said. It was only through habit that he kept that cockiness in his tone. He felt vulnerable, exposed. He waited for Abraham to make his move.

Recognition flickered in the knight’s eyes. He could see the realization drawing across his face as loud as the thoughts bouncing around his head. Dorian was a man. Dorian looked like a woman. He’d had breasts. Those eyes flickered down to the waterline as if he could see through it. “I-I’m sorry.” A delicious flush spread across Abraham’s cheeks. 

“I thought you were done. I didn’t realize-” He made as if to step out of the room, and Dorian cut him off.

“You may as well stay. I can smell you all the way over here.” He slipped backwards, deliberately sitting on the low bench so that his chest was out of the water. “Come on now, don’t pretend like you haven’t seen them before. I don’t bite… at least not without permission.” He laughed at his own joke. 

Abraham’s cheeks were pink as he turned his back to Dorian, lowering his towel so that only his tanned, muscled backside was exposed. The vampire had no reservations about looking. Abraham wasn’t exactly his type, but he was well built, the scars that crossed his body only adding to the rugged charm. When Abraham turned back to him, he purposefully kept his eyes on his face.

Dorian crossed his ankles under the water. “So,” he let the word hang between them. Abraham positioned himself across the tub, though it wasn’t so large that Dorian couldn’t stretch out a foot and touch him.

“I didn’t know that-”

“If you’re about to say you didn’t know I was a woman, save it.” Dorian cut him off, “I’m not. No more than you are.” His gaze raked deliberately across Abrham’s exposed chest, just to see him squirm. 

“I was going to say I didn’t know you were still here,” the knight countered. “I wouldn’t have come if I’d known.” 

“Do you really find me so distasteful?”

“Yes,” the word came out too quickly, and Dorian pressed into Abraham’s mind. It was mostly true, but there was something else there. An embarrassment, maybe a sense of companionship. Dorian knew from experience that even someone you hated became familiar if you were forced around them every day. Abraham bit his lip, “...No. Not exactly.”  
“Even though I haven’t told you my secrets?” Dorian needled, “Well, I suppose you just figured out one of them. It really doesn’t bother you?” 

“Should it?” Abraham countered, “There was a knight when I was in training, I met her as a man and by the time she’d taken her oaths, I knew her as a woman,” Dorian smirked, earning himself a scowl, “Not like that.” 

“Well, that’s quite the progressive attitude. I’m used to people getting weird about it. I’d expected seeing a pair of breasts, even on me, might make you combust.”  
“Just because I’ve taken a vow of chastity, doesn’t mean that I find such things repulsive.”  
“With how prudish your church is, it wasn’t your repulsion I was talking about.” Dorian waved his hand, “I don’t like talking about religion, and I won’t mock your faith. I find it admirable, actually.” 

“Do you?” the doubt in Abraham’s voice made him grin. He didn’t try to hide his fangs from the knight. There was no point. It seemed Abraham had unlocked his muscles enough to reach for the bowl at the side of the tub, dumping it over his head. Dorian’s gaze followed a river of water as it slid down Abraham’s neck. The bruise from his bite had healed to a yellow-ish green. 

“I do. I find devotion admirable, and conviction attractive.” His eyes moved back to Abraham’s face. “Would you like to hear about my homeland?” He asked, leaning forward slightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who's read so far!
> 
> You can follow me at:  
> robin-redd on [Tumblr](https://robin-redd.tumblr.com)  
> @RobinRedd8 on[Twitter](https://twitter.com/RobinRedd8)  
> for story updates and to just generally hear about whatever I'm screaming about rn.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 6: 1499 words today!

Abraham wiped water from his face and started mechanically scrubbing down his skin. “I’d rather know why it’s so important that you get there.”

“I can tell you that too.” Dorian replied. He traced a finger along one of the runes carved into the stone, choosing his words carefully, “But you have to understand. The situation I’m in is… delicate. Are you willing to die for this information?”

Abraham glared at him, “You would kill me for knowing?”

“I wouldn’t,” Dorian grinned. He sank back into the water, enjoying the heat. It made him feel almost alive, “Now… the Queen might, but she’d only find out if you tell her.” 

“That would never happen.” 

Dorian shook his head. He highly doubted that. If she set her sights on Abraham, she would get the information she wanted one way or another. “Well, only time will tell I suppose,” He flicked water in Abraham’s direction, a small frown on his face. “What do you think of these talks?” he asked, “Do you really think there can be peace between our nations?”

Abraham snorted, “You want a deer to make peace with a bear? I think, if your people found a way to feed that wasn’t killing humans, then it could work, but since that’s not possible,” he shrugged.

“I didn’t kill you,” Dorian pointed out, “And the fact that you think that’s all we do shows your ignorance. Do you want to know how many of our towns have been slaughtered on the border? How many times humans have come over simply to kill us because we might pose a threat? It’s not just vampires in our lands, there are plenty of humans as well.”

“Then enlighten me.” Abraham snapped. “Tell me whatever it is you want so badly to say.” 

Dorian let out a deep sigh. He tipped his head back again to rewet his hair. “As you know, the nation is run by the Red Queen,” he began. “She has been our reigning monarch since we became what we are. There are many that believe she is the first of our kind.” 

“Is she?” 

“Perhaps. She’s certainly the head of a lineage. There are three distinct… families, if you will. The Queen’s is the Bremondt’s. Her council is made up of the Master of Coin and his line - the Dearilas’s - and the Prime Minister and Chief advisor, Lady Rayland and her line.” 

“And these are… what? Different types of vampires? Different… species?”

“Hardly,” Dorian rolled his eyes, “They have some distinct qualities, but nothing so significant as to call them different species. They’re more like family lines.” Abraham had sat on the edge of the tub. It seemed he wasn’t shy about his body if it wasn’t in a sexual position. He spread his legs easily, bracing himself as he scrubbed down his legs and feet. Dorian found himself distracted for a moment, forcing himself to look away in case he lost focus. “It’s no different than your royal family and their golden eyes, there are certain traits that are passed through the blood. Some on your side think that means different demons are at play or some such nonsense. I’m more inclined to think that whatever it is that changed us mutated as it jumped from one host to the next.” 

“But you don’t know?” 

“No… we don’t know what caused the change. Or at least, I don’t. I was turned in the early days, but I wasn’t involved with research until much later.” 

“Why?”

Dorian shook his head, “I don’t want to talk about that.” 

“Does it have to do with the scar on your back?” 

Dorian stiffened. The skin on his back tingled with the memory. His mouth felt dry, “I don’t want to talk about that.” 

Abraham looked like he wanted to argue, but something about the look in Dorian’s eyes made him hesitate. “Okay… then what line are you from? Do you drop your given name for the one of your lineage?” 

“Well, I did.” he grinned. It felt forced, even to him, “But yes, typically, you join the family of the one who turned you. Your sire is your parent, anyone they turn a sibling. We have nieces and nephews, grand children, grandsires. The same as your people.”

“So there are only three surnames in the whole country?” Abraham scoffed. “If you’re not going to tell me the truth-”

“You vastly overestimate how many vampires there are. There were more a hundred years ago, but thanks to your church's efforts and a change in… policy, so to speak, the country is more human than vampire. Sure, we have taken over the upper crusts, but, most places outside of the cities only have more diverse populations.” 

Abraham shook his head, “So you just use them like cattle then?” 

“Hardly, there are laws against it. Yes, every so often, someone gets it in their head that they’re a god and starts slaughtering people, but how is that any different from one of your serial killers?” Dorian drew his foot up on the bench, resting his chin on his knee. “The Queen usually dispatches are guard as soon as someone goes mad and if your side hasn’t handled it, we do.” 

“But-”

“It’s not a perfect system, but it works well enough. If a human wants, they can apply to be a donor of sorts. If you’re really lucky, someone in power will like the way you taste and offer you a position as their… companion. From there if you play the game properly, you might be offered a chance to join their family. Think of it as… marrying in or being adopted.” 

Abraham looked like he wanted to say more. Dorian could barely process the questions that flitted through his head. He’d heard so many rumors about his homeland it was unreal. “That sounds very different from what I was taught.” 

Dorian shrugged, staring into the water. “It’s not perfect. There are loopholes and exploits. Being someone’s pet isn’t always pleasant. There are some that would like to go back to their lives as humans. There are times where a life as a farmer seems… nice.” 

There was silence, with only the sound of dripping water to fill it. Abraham drifted closer. He didn’t so much as settle beside Doraian as press himself into the corner on the same side of the tub. Ironically, it put him out of reach. “What is it that you do then?” 

Dorian’s answering smile was grim, he skimmed his fingers over the surface of the water. “Perhaps I’m an ambassador.” He teased, “Would that change your attitude towards me?” 

“No.” 

He laughed, loud and full, the sound echoing in the small room, “Don’t ever change. My role isn’t important right now, considering I’ve been away from it for almost as long as you’ve been alive. It’s why I’m so desperate to get home. It seems I’m… needed. I’ve been neglecting my duties to pursue other projects.” 

“You’re being vague.” Abraham said, “I don’t understand why you won’t just tell me what’s going on.” 

“There are too many ears,” Dorian said. He was also worried that if Abraham knew his plans, he would run off, leaving him unable to stop what was coming. “On both sides.” When the knight opened his mouth to argue, Dorian held up a finger, “That’s as much as one feeding gets you. You’ve already found out more secrets of mine than I ever wanted you to know.” He stood, ignoring the itchy, uncomfortable feeling of having someone see him naked. He didn’t look at Abraham, he didn’t want to know what he was looking at, if he was wondering about the parts that were ‘missing’ from his body. “Besides, I’m done with my bath. He wrapped a towel around him, scooping up his bag of supplies. “Don’t stay in too long, you’ll get wrinkled.” 

Dorian darted into the changing room, glad to see that it was still empty. This was certainly an advantage to only being out at night. There were less people to see him… to question him. He took his time getting dressed, not looking up when Abraham entered. He kept shooting Dorian glances as he rewrapped his chest, securing them bandages in place with a metal clasp. Dressed in only his pants and undershirt, he hurried back to their room, not waiting for Abraham to finish dressing. 

He sat on the edge of the bed he’d claimed, and absently braided his hair into one long strand, very aware of the way the skin of his back pulled with every movement. It had been a long time since he’d thought about those scars. They were a memory he’d rather not re-visit. Dorian flopped back on the bed, and was still there when Abraham reentered. He wanted to believe that the silence that stretched through the night was a little less heavy than it had been before, but perhaps that was just wistful thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who reads and continue to read. Honestly, the fact that 71 people (at the time of me posting this) have read this is like.... 70 more people than I thought would. A bit of a shorter chapter today, but honestly, with everything going on, this is what I've got 
> 
> You can follow me at:  
> robin-redd on [Tumblr](https://robin-redd.tumblr.com)  
> @RobinRedd8 on[Twitter](https://twitter.com/RobinRedd8)  
> for story updates and to just generally hear about whatever I'm screaming about rn.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7: 1807 Words!

The city of Orlet was one of the largest in Tinian. It was rivaled only by Turncliff simply because it held the royal palace and grand cathedral. Orlet had the Royal Academy for the Magical Arts. The finest mages of the land were taught here. Even after the church had decreed all magic not sanctioned by them to be illegal, the school had become a seminary and continued it’s practice. It was well known that to hold a position of power in the church, you had to have studied at the Academy. There were rumors that there were still secret societies on campus where necromancy and blood magic were still practiced, but there was no proof. Abraham had never been, though he had been educated at the grand cathedral. The school loomed over the city. Abraham could see it over the wall as they approached the gates. 

He spoke to the guards, passing the letter from the Bishop over for inspection. They didn’t spare his companion a second glance as the pair were waved through. If Whitebride had been lively, Orlet was overflowing with activity. There was no fear here. With the Academy nearby, a vigilant guard, and fortified walls, people felt safe. Orlet’s reputation of being impregnable, certainly helped. 

“I wonder how the guard would react if they knew they’d just let a vampire in their midst.” Dorian mused as they sought a place to rest. 

“Perhaps you could say that a little louder. I don’t think the whole city heard you.” 

“My, someone’s snippy tonight.” The vampire gave him a smile. 

Abraham looked ahead. What could he say to that? They hadn’t spoken much since they’d left Whitebridge. Dorian had made it clear he wasn’t going to reveal anything else until the next time he needed to feed. Abraham’s stomach was tight at the thought of doing that again. He didn’t like the effect it had had on him. He didn’t know how soon it would be, but it left him on edge. Things at least had been almost cordial. It was hard to hate so strongly when you spent every day with someone. The edge to his hatred had worn away, leaving him unsure of what he was feeling.

“No answer?” Dorian sighed, “Well, here’s something for you, we’re staying here for a few days.” He said it so easily, as if he were in charge. 

“I thought you needed to reach your homeland right away.” 

“I do, but I have someone I need to speak to first.”

“And you didn’t think to mention that before now?” 

“Maybe I just wanted to get under your skin.” 

He didn’t know how Dorian could be so cocky. Even with the vulnerability he’d shown in the bath when Abraham had first arrived, he’d had still held that edge of humor. Was everything a joke to this man? Did he never feel any shame? He’d bared his body to Abraham so easily, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Well, it worked. When is this meeting?” 

He hummed in thought, “In three days, at the Academy. Of course you’ll be joining me as my loyal guard,” mischief sparkled in his dark eyes, “I can help you get into the part, if you’d like. I can promise you, you’ll want to follow my lead with this.” 

“I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about.” Abraham snapped, “Speak plainly or don’t speak.” 

Dorian pulled his horse to a stop outside of an inn. It was nicer than the one they’d stayed in in Whitebridge. “Let’s get settled first. I’m sure you must be tired, being in the saddle for so long. A few days rest won’t kill you.” 

The vampire sauntered into the inn, leaving Abraham to pay the stablehand and follow after. 

“Dorian!” A woman called from behind the bar. In a flash, she had come around and flung herself into his arms. She was a short, pump woman, smaller than even the vampire by several fingers. Her hair was streaked with grey, and lines creased around her dark eyes when she smiled. The symbol of the Twins hung from around her neck.

“Aggie!” Dorian said, squeezing the woman tightly and spinning around with her. He angled his chest so that the holy symbol didn't touch him, “I had hoped I would see you. It’s been so long!” 

“You’re telling me,” She held him at arm's length, looking him over, “You haven’t aged a day, and look better than ever.” 

“Now Aggie, you know that I found the fountain of youth when we were children.” he winked, “I offered you some and you didn’t take it.” 

The woman gave his shoulder a gentle shove, “I’m sure.” Her eyes flicked to Abraham. “A friend of yours?” 

“A traveling companion, courteously of Bishop Dallas. It seems he wants me to reach the Queen safely. Aggie, this is Ser Abraham Radcliff. Abraham, Agatha Snow.” 

The woman peeled herself from Dorian’s side, eyeing him with her hands on her hips, “He’s not causing you any trouble for you?” 

“Nothing I can’t handle, my sweet.” Dorian chuckled.

“Then it’s nice to meet you, Ser Radcliff.” She offered him her hand. 

Abraham stared at it stunned for a moment. Since he’d taken his vows, no one had spoken so glibly towards him, save for Dorian. “And you as well, Mrs. Snow.” 

“Aggie is fine.” She squeezed his hand tightly before turning back to the vampire. “How long are you in town, love?” 

“Three days,” Dorian replied, “Maybe four. I’m meeting Marcus, but he insists that it be after his lecture.” 

“Well, of course you’re staying here.” She said, “I have a room with a single bed that you can have.” She glanced first at Abraham and then at Dorian for confirmation. 

“A double, actually. I’ve lost my edge. Ser Radcliff here has yet to fall madly in love with me.” he countered before Abraham could protest.

Aggie was laughing as she led them back to the bar. “Never thought I’d see the day.” She pulled a key from under the bar. Abraham pulled out his coin purse. He wanted this conversation over with as quickly as possible. She waved him off. “No charge, so long as Dorian promises to give us a show.” 

Abraham’s brow creased in confusion, but the vampire laughed, “Aggie, I don’t have anything with me and I am woefully out of practice.” 

“I think I have an old lute around here somewhere. You don’t have to do it tonight, but tomorrow or the day after.” She tapped the key on the bar, “That’s my price.” 

Dorian reached over, taking it from her fingers, “I never could say no to you. Fine, in two days. Now, if you will excuse us, it seems we’ve taken up enough of your time.” He jerked his head towards the stairs and Abraham followed. 

“Who was that?” he asked when they were out of earshot. A few people were looking their way, but most had gone back to their own conversations.

“A friend. Haven’t you ever heard of them?” 

“Dorian.” 

“Oh, the scary commander voice. That’s the answer. She’s an old friend of mine. We’ve known each other for some time.” 

“Does she know that you’re…” 

“Well, unless she’s as thick as you are, she’s probably pieced it together.” 

Abraham ground his teeth together, “Are you always so rude or is it just me?”

“If memory serves, you started it. I’ve been tame so far. If you really want me to insult you, I’m sure I can come up with something better than ‘creature’ and ‘it,’” Dorian replied, his dark eyes flashing. He unlocked the door, tossing his bag at the foot of one of the beds. 

Abraham stared at him. An apology tingled on his tongue, and he swallowed it down. He’d one nothing wrong. As far as he’d known, Dorian was a monster. “Well… what now?” 

“Now? I’m going to go get that damned lute from Aggie and practice so that I don’t make a fool of myself in two nights, and then we can discuss another feeding. I’m feeling peckish.” 

Abraham’s skin felt hot and itch. “Already?” 

“It’s been nearly a week. I don’t know many creatures where it’s comfortable to go that long without eating. Do you?” 

“What’s this performance?” he asked. He wanted to stall as long as he could. “I didn’t know you played any instruments.” 

“What can I say, I’m a man of many talents. You also never asked.” 

Abraham hadn’t known he was supposed to. He was confused by Dorian’s sudden prickliness. Hadn’t they been at least civil since Whitebridge? He hadn’t been any more hostile at least. “I… what’s wrong?” He asked. 

Dorian froze, his dark eyes turning to Abraham. “Do you really care?” 

“I might not know you well, but you’re not usually wound so tight. Did I say something wrong?” 

Dorian blinked slowly, as if he couldn’t quite understand what he was hearing. “No…” something shifted in his gaze, “I don’t want to talk about it, not right now.” He shook his head again. “I’m too… hungry to focus.” 

“When we’d met you’d said it had been three weeks. You held out that long before.” Abraham countered. 

“That wasn’t by choice.” Dorian replied, “Besides, what better time to do it, you have a cathedral and everything to purify yourself afterwards.” 

Abraham swallowed, “It’s not too soon?” 

“Perhaps a little, but don’t you knights have some amazing healing power?”

“I suppose...” Abraham admitted. He reached up to touch his neck. The bruise was completely gone. The ability wasn’t universal, nor was it anything compared to a vampire’s ability to regenerate, but it meant that Dorian wasn’t likely to kill him by taking too much. 

“Then it’s settled.” Dorian’s boots clicked on the floor as he stepped towards Abraham, lifting a hand to press it to his chest. “You get into whatever position you prefer, and I’m going to go get this lute.” 

It didn’t feel like anything was settled, but it was better than risking Dorian going out and finding someone else. He wondered how easy it would be to find someone in this city. No one seemed cautious. No one had cared, overhearing Dorian and Aggie’s conversation. The thought made his stomach turn. No… a bit of discomfort and a lot of prayer was better than condemning someone else. 

“Fine…” Abraham said.

Dorian patted his chest, giving him a smile that showed far too much teeth. His tone was soft, as if he’d known all along he would be obeyed. It made Abraham wonder again who he was before they’d met. “Good boy.” The vampire stepped back, and Abrham let out a shaking breath, his heart hammering. “I’ll be back. Do be ready by the time I get back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading! I feel like I'm piecing together this narrative as I figure out Dorian's backstory. I didn't have a super clear image of what his deal was until recently and it's changed where I want this story to go! 
> 
> Cheers to flying by the seat of your pants!
> 
> You can follow me at:  
> robin-redd on [Tumblr](https://robin-redd.tumblr.com)  
> @RobinRedd8 on[Twitter](https://twitter.com/RobinRedd8)  
> for story updates and to just generally hear about whatever I'm screaming about rn.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 8! 1758 words today!

Abraham stood frozen for several seconds after the door had closed. It felt like there was a hand in his chest, crawling up his throat. He could feel his pulse under his skin, and sweat prickled on the back of his neck despite the fact that he felt cold. His hands felt stiff as he reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. He didn’t feel like spending the time to mend another shirt if Dorian ripped another. 

He reminded himself that this was for the best. He would survive, and his soul would be safe if it wasn’t intact. He sat on the edge of the bed with his dagger in his lap, knots twisting in his stomach as he listened for the sound of approaching footsteps. He could hear the sound of people downstairs. There was something so warm and intimate about it. He’d been in hundreds of inns in his life, and it never failed to make him feel connected to people. It reminded him of why he’d chosen this path in the first place. The click of boots outside the door made him flinch. Abraham held his breath, and the door creaked open. 

Dorian stood in the doorway a moment, his hand resting on the doorframe. Abraham fought not to squirm as Droian’s gaze raked over him. He braced himself for some suggestive comment, but Dorian’s brows drew together, and he stepped inside. “Are you truly that afraid of me?” He asked, setting the lute case carefully on the other bed. “Truly Abraham, you would think I was about to kill you.” 

His hair had spilled over his shoulder as he leaned down, and he tucked it back under his ear. Abraham’s mouth went dry, and the image of Dorian in the bath came to him unbidden. It wasn’t as if he’d never seen someone naked before, but seeing Dorian like that had left his stomach feeling tight and warm, as if he were running a fever. The vampire smiled, his dark eyes flashing, “Now that’s the reaction I prefer.” 

Dorian approached him slowly, each step deliberate as he crossed the room. Abraham fixed his gaze over his shoulder. His chest ached with the effort of keeping his breathing steady. Dorian stopped in front of him, hooking one finger under his chin. A sharp nail dug into his skin as he tipped his head upwards. “Look at me.” Dorian said, “I don’t know how to explain this to you so that you understand. I don’t want to hurt you, and this shame you feel is… more than a little frustrating.” He stepped closer until his pants brushed against Abraham’s knees. “I don’t understand it, but… I suppose that’s something we can talk about together.” The finger on his chin became a hand, and Abrham found himself looking up at Dorian with wide eyes. His grip tightened on his dagger, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. 

“Would you prefer from the front or behind?” Dorian asked.

Abraham’s heartbeat hammered in his chest. His tongue felt sticky, heavy in his mouth. 

“If you don’t answer, I will choose for you,” the vampire warned. 

“The front,” He said without thinking. He had a moment to think that he’d said something wrong when Dorian’s eyebrows shot up.

“Very well… move your hands.” cool hands closed around his wrists, pulling them to his sides. Before he could protest, Dorian pressed a knee to the bed and slid forwards easily, straddling his lap.

“I don’t-”

Dorian cut him off, resting a hand on the back of his neck. “Relax. I’m not going to do anything you wouldn’t approve of. Despite what you might think of me, I’m not interested in forcing you.” 

Abraham remembered the conversation with Aggie, about how Dorian was losing his edge. Was he trying to seduce him? Did he expect him to fall into bed and let him do whatever he wanted? Dorian’s free hand wrapped around Abraham’s wrist, and lifted it so that the point of the dagger rested on the vampire’s back. 

“Stop thinking and focus on not stabbing me,” he ordered. Fingers moved up the back of his neck, tracing along his hairline. It was the same intimate gesture he’d made the first time. Dorian leaned forward. His hair had fallen over his shoulder again, tickling Abraham’s bare chest. He could feel his breath on his skin, goosebumps popping up in its wake. He tried not to think that he was shirtless, that he could feel Dorain’s slight body pressed against his bare chest. The layers of clothes only made it more intimate.

Cold lips pressed a kiss to his shoulder. It burned like a brand, and Abraham flushed. His grip tightened on the hilt of his dagger. Dorian guided his head to his side, his mouth moving upwards to hover over the crook of his neck. He was prepared this time. The pain didn’t catch him off guard. Even so, Dorian’s grip tightened on him, crushing him to his chest with more strength than someone his size should have. 

Abraham gasped. His muscles tensed. His free hand came up, gripping Dorian’s side as liquid rolled down his chest. His brow furrowed, waiting for the heat to flood his veins. It hit harder this time. Abraham couldn’t contain the sound he made as the pain melted into something sweeter. Dorian let out a muffled sound, loosening his grip. Nails trailed slightly along his back as fangs pulled from his skin and the vampire’s lips closed over the wound. 

Another moan slipped from his lips, the dagger clattering to the floor as he pressed a hand to his mouth to stifle it. He felt unmoored, helpless in Dorian’s grip with no way to protect himself. His pants were painfully tight. It was only through sheer force of will that he managed to keep his hips from moving, from seeking more and damning himself more than he already was. 

Dorian shifted in his lap, the pressure toppling them over. Abraham gasped as their hips met fully, the pressure sending heat spiralling through his stomach. Dorian didn’t let up. The sounds he made were soft, needy. Abraham wormed his hand between them, shoving him backwards. Dorian let out a cry of shock. Abraham lifted his hand to his neck. Hot blood bubbled from between his fingers, soaking the mattress underneath him. 

“Shit,” Dorian hissed. Blood coated his chin and neck. He leaned down, pulling Abraham’s hand from his wound. Abraham jerked in his gasp, his eyes wide with fear. His heart was racing, the bed under him uncomfortably wet. “Stop. Fighting me.” Dorian snapped. He pressed his hand to the bed, leaning over him. Abraham saw Dorian bite his tongue, pressing it into the wound. Shocks of pain radiated from his neck. It felt like ice was pressed to his skin, everything going numb. 

Abraham’s head swam as Dorian pulled back. He saw dark eyes hovering above him, a voice coming from somewhere far, far away. “That’s it, stay with me… Stay…”  
He went limp, hands dragging him into the darkness.

***

Abraham's dreams were filled with the sound of music. Everything was dark and disjointed. He was floating, falling, something hard on his back sending him back under. When he woke, he woke slowly. His body felt cold and heavy. He opened his eyes, hissing at the brightness that seared through the back of his head. 

The music stopped. To his side a bed creaked and the familiar sound of boots on hardwood filled his ears. “You’re awake.” Dorian’s voice was soft, filled with relief. Behind his closed eyes, the light dimmed. He opened them again, finding himself looking up at a pale, angelic face. “Oh thank the gods.” 

Abrham tried to get his hands under him, to get away from the vampire. 

“Easy… easy.” Dorian reached for him, stopping just before he touched his shoulder. “Lay back down, Abraham. I am not carrying you back to bed if you pass out again.” 

Abraham froze. He settled back on the bed when the world spun. “Here,” Dorian shoved his dagger into his hand before turning to fill a glass from the pitcher on the nightstand. “Drink this and lay down.” 

The water smelled vaguely medicinal. Small bits of herbs floated on the surface. “You tried to kill me.” Abraham accused, his throat felt like he’d been swallowing sand.   
“I… might have misjudged my own control.” Dorian replied. “Drink the water, Abraham. It’s something we use for our pets at home. It will make you feel better.” 

Abraham looked at it doubtfully. Dorian sighed in frustration, taking the glass from him and downing it in one go. He poured him another and shoved it into his hands. “Poison wouldn’t kill you.” Abraham countered. 

“No, but it can make me sick. I'm immortal, not invincible. If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it while you were unconscious. Drink or gods help me, I will pour it down your throat. I will not have you weakened and dying because of my mistake.”

Abraham grimaced, but he brought the cup to his lips all the same. The water was warm and bitter, the herbs floating in it bumped against his lips. 

Dorian watched him until he’d finished it, pouring him another glass. “There, feel better?” 

“A bit.” His head felt a touch clearer. The room stayed in focus when he blinked. Abraham touched his throat, expecting to feel it scarred and sticky with blood. Instead, the skin was smooth and clean. “What…” He looked around, this wasn’t the room they’d been in before. 

“Aggie was kind enough to move us, considering I ruined one of the beds. She’s demanded an additional performance as compensation.” 

“How did I get here? What… happened. It wasn’t like that before.”

“First, I carried you. I’m stronger than I look,” Dorian said. His expression was closed off. He’d changed his clothes, but Abraham thought he saw a smear of pink on his skin that he’d missed, “And second… I got… a little too enthusiastic. I could taste your excitement and it got me riled. It’s not… uncommon for feeding and sex to be married,” when Abraham’s lips thinned, Dorian rolled his eyes. “Truly, you’re a grown man who still treats sex like it’s dirty. But, regardless, I don’t mean to scold you. I’m trying to apologize. I thought I had a better grasp on my urges, but I did not. It’s been… some time. I’m sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That moment where you write the perfect ending for the chapter, but you still have to write 400 more words. Whoops. I warned y'all some of these chapters would end weird :)
> 
> Thank you all for your continued support!
> 
> You can follow me at:  
> robin-redd on [Tumblr](https://robin-redd.tumblr.com)  
> @RobinRedd8 on[Twitter](https://twitter.com/RobinRedd8)  
> for story updates and to just generally hear about whatever I'm screaming about rn.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 9! 1707 Words! Communication? In my romance? It's more likely than you think!

Abraham blinked, staring down at the cup in his hands. He had dropped his dagger. If anything, he should have acted quicker. “You didn’t kill me.” He said, brows drawing together as the cobwebs cleared from his mind. 

“No. I know it’s hard for you to believe, but I’ve never liked murder.” 

“Why?” Abraham grunted as he sat up. He reached for the pitcher himself, and Dorian moved as if to stop him. Abraham shot him a look and he stepped back. 

The vampire hovered by his bedside for a moment longer. He looked as if he wanted to encourage Abraham to lay down again but thought better of it. He crossed the room, sitting on his own bed with his legs crossed. “Really? That’s what you’re concerned about?” His laugh had none of the edge it usually did. He looked tired, despite the healthy flush to his skin. “Is it so hard to believe that I don’t want to kill you? What a sad life that must be.” 

Abrham’s skin prickled at Dorian’s tone. There was no bite to his words, only a bone-deep tiredness and guilt. He wanted to argue, to push back, to tell him that he’d been right. Maybe there would be time for that later, but it was hard to hold onto that righteous fire when he’d spent so much time with the man. He tried to remember the last time he’d spent so much time with someone. It wasn’t as if he was a loner by nature, but his job didn’t exactly put him in a position to be around people for any extended period of time. He was almost as nocturnal as the vampires he hunted, and if he did interact with humans it was either tired inn-keepers, stoic knights, or the human thrall of his targets. It had been a long time since he’d had a traveling companion, and frankly, he was too tired to fight. 

Dorian was staring at him. His dark eyes narrowed, lips parted as if he wanted to say something. Abraham took another sip of the concoction to buy himself some time, “I guess what matters is I’m still here. You made sure I didn’t die, so thank you for that. I’ll consider it repayment for how much of an ass I’ve been.”  
His expression creased further. “Ser Radcliff,” there was an edge of mockery in his voice, “If you’re not careful, I’m going to start thinking you might be half-decent yourself.” 

“Don’t push it,” Abraham shot back. A knock on the door echoed through the room, making him jump. 

Dorian was on his feet and across the room in a flash. He leaned against the doorway as he opened it. He spoke quietly to the person on the other side, balancing the tray he was passed with one hand while he dug a small coin purse out of his pocket. He closed the door with his hip as he turned back to Abraham. “I thought you might need something to eat,” he explained. Balancing the tray on the nightstand, he pulled the metal dome off the plate. “I don’t know if you like sweets,” He bit his lip, passing the plate to Abraham, “But the sugar will help.

Abraham stared at the hand-pie. It was still hot, dusted with sugar and smelled of cherries. “I’m not,” He admitted, picking at a bit of the crust. He was warm and buttery.

“Well, the sugar will help. Even if you only eat a little,” Dorian insisted, a small smile softening his expression, “If not, I’ll tell Aggie you didn’t like it, and then you get to deal with her.” 

Abraham sighed. He took a bite. It was sweet, but very good. It made him feel warmer. Dorian seemed satisfied as he settled back on his side of the room. He was watching him, lips pulled down in a small frown. “Yes?” 

“Nothing, I’m just remembering how much I miss pastries.” Dorian said wistfully. “I don’t even remember what they tasted like, only that I loved them.” 

Abraham sucked a bit of filling off of his thumb, “Has it been that long?” 

“A hundred years, give or take. I was…” he hesitated, the words dying on his lips, “working at the palace in the early days, when the Red Queen was taking power. I caught the attention of someone who thought it best and they offered me immortality.”

“And you agreed?” 

Dorian’s eyes softened. He drew his leg up on the bed, resting his chin on his knee as he had in the bath. “Agreed is a strong word, but yes, I relented.” His gaze was distant, “After there was a bit of a whirlwind. I became a member of her Majesty’s court,” He frowned, and Abraham got the distinct feeling that Dorian didn’t want him to know that. “Fifty years later, I took an interest in science. I wanted to know where we came from and why. I began studying and that led me to travel.” Dorian shrugged, as if it wasn’t much.  
Reaching to the tray, Abraham plucked a small bunch of grapes from a bowl and popped one in his mouth. They were tart, just the way he liked them. “So you were a member of the royal court?” He’d suspected as much, with the way Dorian often carried himself.

“Yes, once upon a time. It’s why I need to get back. I feel the Queen needs my perspective.” 

“And what perspective is that?”

Dorian gave him a smile, “Would you accept that I’m not ready to tell you?”

“After you almost killed me? I think you owe me something.” 

“A fair point.” Dorian tipped his head back, his nails scratching along his knee, “I want to ensure that she is negotiating in good faith. I don’t completely trust her intentions with these peace talks. I’ve always been sympathetic to your people,” he nodded towards the pitcher, “I developed a lot of what’s used now to keep them safe. With the help of humans much smarter than I will ever be. I always carry that blend on me, just in case. I told you before, I don’t like murder. I don’t want anyone to hurt because of something I did.” 

Abraham felt as if he were seeing him for the first time. He settled back against the pillows, “So… where do I come in? And the church?” 

Dorian looked at him, naked surprise on his face, “Well… the church and I see eye to eye. We have very similar goals. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t call myself a believer - your gods hate me after all - but the people of your church and I have similar goals.” 

“And I fit into them how?”

“Who said you do?” Dorian teased, though his smile lasted only a moment before he sighed, “You came highly recommended, and the Bishop seemed to think you’d be useful.” 

“In doing what?” Abraham’s tone sharpened. He hated all this talking around it. He’d rather Dorian just tell him. 

“I want you to do what you do best.” When Abraham frowned in confusion, Dorian laughed. It was the same warm sound that dug under his skin, “Ponder that a little, and let me know what you figure out.” He flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, “I want to speak with Marcus first before I reveal too much. I promise you, I will tell you everything you need to know before we reach the border. I just have to confirm something.”

“Cryptic…” 

“Yes well, all good things come to those who wait, or some such nonsense.” 

Abraham bit his tongue. “Who is Marcus then.” 

“Finally, an easy one, a friend, well… colleague I suppose. We would never go out for drinks, but I respect his work. He’s been teaching here for some time, and one of the greatest minds the world has ever seen. I’ve had him looking into something for me.” 

“And you mentioned that you would… coach me on how to act around him?”

“Yes, he’s something of a traditionalist. But, that can wait until tomorrow. That’s a bit much for tonight.” 

Abraham wanted to argue, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to know. He let the silence fill the room, chewing grapes slowly to let the tartness wash over his tongue. “What was wrong before? Before you bit me I mean? You seemed… upset.” 

Dorian rolled over on his side, his eyes suddenly sad. They were bright in the dim light. He cleared his throat. “Aggie is dying.” he said softly. Abraham’s skin went cold, and Dorian shook his head, “Not quickly, well… not quickly by your standards. I met her almost thirty years ago, and she was so young and vibrant. Now she’s going grey and has a hip that aches on rainy days.” Abraham was shocked to hear the wetness in his voice. “I should have spent more time with her. I offered her… a spot in my family and she turned me down. Multiple times. She said her place in the afterlife was more important than any worldly immortality I could give her. I thought about insisting, but I don’t want her to simply relent. If she has made her choice, I will respect it.” 

Abraham didn’t know what to say. Surely Dorian had seen other humans die. But… if he truly was as sympathetic as he said, perhaps not. There was no denying the hurt in his voice. “I’m… sorry.” he said softly. Reaching across the space between them, Abraham held out his hand. 

Dorian stared at it surprised, and cautiously took it. He squeezed gently, offering whatever he could. “I don’t know what to say, but…” but what? He was here? He would help him. Abraham shook his head. “Perhaps it’s no comfort to you, but she seems to be a good woman. She will be rewarded greatly in the next life.” 

“You’re right.” 

“Oh?” 

“It’s not a comfort.” 

“Oh…” 

Dorian swallowed, he squeezed Abraham’s hand back, “But thank you. I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He let go, tucking his hand against his chest, “For what it’s worth, I’m glad I didn’t kill you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I'm going to write erotica! It's going to be really fun and dark and sexy  
> Also me: Makes the buildup so very long so that my characters are finally starting to communicate somewhat well on page 44. 
> 
> Anyway! thank you all for reading! More to come!
> 
> You can follow me at:  
> robin-redd on [Tumblr](https://robin-redd.tumblr.com)  
> @RobinRedd8 on[Twitter](https://twitter.com/RobinRedd8)  
> for story updates and to just generally hear about whatever I'm screaming about rn.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 10! 2466 Words!

The mid-morning light did nothing to ease the tension in Abraham’s chest. The moment he’d sat at the bar, a large breakfast of eggs and choice cuts of meat was set in front of him. When he’d asked, he’d gotten a shrug, saying that Aggie had insisted that he be well fed. No one paid him any mind. It felt as if he’d been changed. He felt hollowed out, tired in a way that he hadn’t been, even after the three day vigil he’d kept before taking his vows. He and Dorian hadn’t said much after his confession. He’d never been good at navigating emotions like that. It had been easier to let himself drift off to sleep. He’d woke to find that the vampire was already asleep, still dressed in the tight-laced clothes he always wore. Their conversation felt like a distant dream, and Abraham had taken special care when dressing. He’d thought about wearing his armor, just to make himself feel a little more normal, but had decided against it. The thought of strapping back into it was unbearable. 

It was cold enough this far north that it wasn’t strange for him to be bundled up, a thick scarf affixed so that it covered his neck. He couldn’t help but reach up and touch it to make sure it hadn’t slipped down. As expected, there was a bruise blooming down his neck almost to his shoulder. He’d pressed on it as he’d shaved. It didn’t hurt, thanks to whatever Dorian had done to stop the bleeding, but it looked incriminating. He was more glad than he’d ever thought he’d be at the chilled air on his face. 

Orlet during the day was just as he remembered it in his brief visits - loud, colorful, and full of life. Abraham made his way slowly through the city, feeling more than a little out of place in his dark clothes. Banners flapped in the late-autumn breeze, a myriad of colors, advertising some shop or another. The people, too, were dressed in bright colors and patterns so complex that it would have been ostentatious on a King, let alone on a beggar. Because of the Academy, Orlet’s main export was magical items. Everything from self-heating kettles to looms that would work themselves. That they often needed repair, the magic reapplied or runes redrawn meant that to have an item from a master mage in Orlet was a luxury that few could afford.

Abraham paused outside the inn to watch a man dance. He was dressed in far too little for the chill in the air, the clothes he did wear flowing behind his movements in a dizzying display of color. A violin case sat nearby. The violin it belonged to hovered behind the man, at the height someone would be playing it. The bow moved across the strings on it’s own, drawing out a soft, sweet melody to match the man’s movements. 

Abraham scowled. It was impressive, and in many places, it would be more magic than anyone would see in their entire lives, but it was an affront to the gods. Dancing and revelry weren’t outlawed - nor was using magic so openly for that matter - but having a self playing instrument was a waste of the Gods’ gift. It was well known that they were who gifted people the ability to shape the world around them, and to use it in anything other than service to them was disgusting. He watched as the man spun and moved, slipping behind the instrument to pluck it from the air and continue the song without missing a beat. The sun shone through his dark hair, highlighting the brown in it, and his dark eyes fixed on Abraham and he smiled. 

He was struck by how much he looked like Dorian. He had the same aristocratic features, the same self-assured attitude. It felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. It wasn’t hard to imagine Dorian dancing, the image was not something he wanted to think about it. Abraham deliberately turned his back, and hurried on his way. He knew there was no escaping such acts in a city like this. Such power was common-place, a spillover from the Academy itself. It seemed everyone had a touch of it. Shopkeepers used flashing lights and self-dancing signs to promote themselves. Music drifted from every stall, grating against his ears. A flash of light startled him as a man demonstrated a lantern he was trying to sell to a young mother. He wondered if heretical researchers might be right when they’d suggested that the essence of magic itself might not be hereditary. 

Trying to banish his heavy thoughts, Abraham spent some time at one of the smaller churches in the city. It was blessedly empty this time of day, and he was able to go through his ritual and prayer undisturbed. He could feel that this ground wasn’t as blessed as the one he’d visited after he’d first fed Dorian. There was no tingle along his skin, no warmth or prescience of the gods. He waved off the priest that offered his services and went through the motions of his prayers, purifying himself, but he left feeling no lighter than when he’d walked in. 

Abraham was grinding his teeth as he restocked on supplies. He felt as if he’d lost connection with other people. In his younger years, finding himself in the middle of a crowd would remind him of why he had chosen his path, but now he just felt tired, overwhelmed, and in desperate need to escape. A few people stopped to look at him. It wasn’t common for members of his order specifically to be here. He was far from the only one to hate the crowds, and with their own guard and their branch of the church being much more lenient on certain tenets, their services weren’t often needed. He could only imagine how quickly a vampire would be dealt with if they were found in their midsts. The thought made him think of Dorian again, and he reached up to adjust his scarf, his cheeks hot. 

He didn’t know what had come over him. He didn’t want to think about the vampire he traveled with, but after last night, it felt like something had settled between them. He was wary, knowing that the creature had lost control, but he’d seen the vulnerability in his eyes when he’d spoken of his friend. He’d seen the guilt in his actions, and over and over again his word echoed in his head. What a sad life that must be… Abraham didn’t think he was sad. He was lonely, perhaps. It’s why he was able to excuse some of Dorian’s more annoying habits, but sad was pushing it. Even so, he couldn’t shake the way those words had pressed against something inside him. 

He shoved the thought away, slipping into a small bookstore. Abraham prayed that it would distract him enough. His neck prickled as if someone would stop him. He couldn’t carry much with him, but in the long, dark knights on the road, it was nice to have something more than prayers to keep him company. He often read what he could find in smaller trading posts, but like everything else, there was an abundance of book shops to choose from. He browsed the shelves, unsure what he was really looking for. There were quite a few books by some novelist he’d never heard of. Perhaps some recent poet that had found a wealthy patron. Because of the over-abundance of wealth, it wasn’t uncommon for artists to flock to the city in search of someone to sponsor their work.

He flipped through several volumes, unsure what he was looking for. Much of what he found was what was usually sanctioned by the church. There was nothing that blasphemed the gods, nothing that spoke against the King or his council. He’d read most of it. He found himself looking over a smaller section, tucked at the bottom of a shelf in the very back of the shop. Many of the names on them weren’t ones he recognized, and a small tome bound in red leather caught his eye. It was a collection of short stories, seeming to be set in a small town that was divided by the border between Tinian and Aberon. He frowned as he scanned the stories, his cheeks feeling warm at some of the acts that were described. This was blasphemous. It described the union between a human from Tinian and the vampire lord that ruled over the Aberinian half of the town. The pair met in secret, and he scanned the page, his stomach twisting into knots. He looked around the shop again, but no one looked in his direction. 

Dorian’s taunts from the night before krept like fingers over the back of his mind. That kind of intimacy had always been a taboo subject. He’d taken a vow of chastity along with his other vows, but even before that he had resisted such temptations. Everything he’d heard about Aberon was that such sins were not only common but celebrated. There were parties that devolved into intercourse. Dorian’s casual mention of pets, and his general attitude served as confirmation that at least some of the rumors were true. 

Abraham turned the book over in his hands. He couldn’t deny that he was intrigued. The stories were well written, and not so explicit that it made him feel as if he were about to be struck down. Perhaps it would be good for him to prepare himself before they entered the country, he justified. It would be best to desensitize himself to these things now, so that he didn’t react poorly in the future. Biting his lip, he held the book at his side, and walked stiffly to the clerk before he could talk himself out of it. He hunched over himself as he paid, immediately shoving the book at the very bottom of his bag of supplies as he hurried out the door. 

***

Back to the inn, he packed everything away with care, making sure that he’d gotten everything he’d needed so that he could avoid the market again. Dorian was still asleep, undisturbed by him coming in except to pull the blanket over his head. Abraham made a point to be quiet, moving carefully so that he didn’t disturb him more. Looking down at the book he’d bought as he pulled it from the sack, he felt ridiculous. His heart raced at the thought of having it. It was inappropriate, but that it was being sold at all meant that it wasn’t strictly illegal. Frowned upon, perhaps, but not something that would get him in trouble. Abraham cursed under his breath. He was being ridiculous. He was a grown man, and no one would know that he had it. Perhaps Dorian wasn’t completely wrong in saying that he was perhaps a bit too stiff about these things. Still, he shoved the book between two shirts and wiped his hands on his pants. 

With so much time on his hands until Dorian woke, he wasn’t sure what to do with it. He was hungry, but the thought of bringing his book downstairs to read in the dining room was unthinkable. He settled instead for grabbing the small pocket journal he’d started carrying, and took it downstairs to record everything that had happened so far. It never failed to help him clear his mind. 

The inn’s dining room was largely empty as he stepped into it. This late in the afternoon, there were only a handful of patrons, though the dinner rush was no doubt close. Aggie was behind the bar again, and offered him a warm smile and a nod, her gaze dropping briefly to the scarf around his neck. He touched it again, glad that it was still in place.   
Food was set in front of him before he’d even sat down, and he looked at Aggie with raised eyebrows. She only winked, and went back to her duties. Abraham opened his journal, recording everything he’d experienced while traveling with Dorian, leaving no detail out. It was an exercise he’d been encouraged to do by one of his mentors. It was a way to purge his sins from his mind, even after he’d already been forgiven for them by the gods. 

“Radcliff?” a deep voice to his left made him jump. His body flushed cold.

He blinked, closing the journal quickly despite the fact that the ink wasn’t dry. “Ser Kross.” He said, immediately straightening. He hadn’t expected to run into anyone from his order here, let alone one of his instructors. Sylas Kross was a large man. He towered over even Abraham, looking down at him with a ruddy face and thick neck. He was dressed in riding leathers, a lethal looking blade at his hip. Abraham had learned the blade under him before he’d been transferred. He hadn’t thought to wonder where.

“By the gods it is you. What a surprise!” he slid into the seat beside him. “Never thought I’d see you out this way.” 

“And you as well. I heard that you were sent to the border.” He said, keeping his voice light.

“Hardly, the Bishop thought he would reward my service with a cushy position at the Academy here,” His voice dripped with sarcasm, “Thought it might discourage them from practicing the darker arts to have one of us here. What are you doing here? I thought you hated the city.” 

Abraham nodded, shifting uncomfortable in his seat. “I’ve been given a task by the Bishop. I’m not really able to talk about it.” He thought of Dorian upstairs. It was almost dusk. He prayed silently that he didn’t come down while Kross was still here. He knew he was performing his duties as instructed, but it would be difficult to explain why he was traveling with a vampire at all. 

Kross nodded, “Good man. I’m not surprised he would give you something important. No one could deny your faith… or how much you stuck to the rules.” He chuckled, and Abraham got the distinct impression that he was being laughed at.

He thought of some of the things he’d done since he’d started traveling with Dorian, and a small part of him wanted to tell him, to prove that he wasn’t just blindly following the church. He swallowed down the urge. “I suppose it’s better than being here.” he managed, “Can’t imagine how you handle it.” 

The large man shrugged, the seat creaking under him, “You get used to it after a while, and it’s not like these things don’t happen elsewhere, people are just more quiet about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally wrote way more than my goal >_< and still had to stop in the middle of a scene or else I'm going to write like... 5k words today and this wasn't even the scene I'd planned to write. I ended up getting really into writing a scene of Abraham alone, and suddenly I'm almost a thousand words more than my goal and the scene still isn't done. Whoops! 
> 
> Thank you all for reading as always! You're amazing n_n
> 
> You can follow me at:  
> robin-redd on [Tumblr](https://robin-redd.tumblr.com)  
> @RobinRedd8 on[Twitter](https://twitter.com/RobinRedd8)  
> for story updates and to just generally hear about whatever I'm screaming about rn.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 11! 1964 Words! - fucked up and posted over this chapter when posting 12. Whoops. It's fixed now

Abraham sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the bar. “I suppose they do, but it doesn’t make it any less sinful.”

Sylas rolled his eyes and clapped him on the back. “I guess this is why you get the important tasks and I’m here guarding a bunch of pampered nobles.” he smirked, “Even though your swordwork was always horse shit.”

Abraham scowled at him, “My swordwork was fine. I wasn’t the worst one out there.”

“That’s not saying much,” Sylas chuckled, “You’re doing well for yourself, I’m glad to see it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Abraham saw a pale figure move. He kept his eyes trained on his mentor, heart jumping into his throat. Dorian crossed the room easily, weaving his way between tables. He passed behind Kross, cocking his head in curiosity as he met Abraham’s eyes. His expression was carefully neutral. Abraham was shocked to realize that he knew that meant he’d surprised him. A flush crept up the back of his neck. Dorian blinked, and shot him a wicked grin. He watched the vampire out of the corner of his eye as he continued across the room, and slipped out of the inn as casually as he’d come downstairs.

Sylas looked behind him, confusion drawing his thick brows together, but Dorian was already gone, “You all right?”

“Y-yes,” Abraham straighted, running a nervous hand through his hair. His skin felt prickly. “I just thought I saw someone I knew.” he waved him off, mind already turning to what Dorian could possibly get into in this city.

Sylas’ lips turned down at the corners. He studied Abraham’s expression, “A friend, eh?” The man shook his head, “You’re not going to get a telling off from me. It’s not my job anymore, but you’d better be damn careful about any friend that makes you have that look.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Abraham countered. The tight, itchy feeling returned.

“I’m sure you don’t, just don’t give me a reason to have to report you.”

Abraham’s skin went cold. He was always careful to avoid any accusation that he might be breaking his vows. He didn’t think his expression was anything out of the ordinary. There were strict punishments for oathbreakers, not the least of which was being stripped of title and going through a lengthy reeducation. Little was known about the process, but the rumors around it were scary enough that most tried to avoid it. “Well… thank you for your concern, but I can assure you, there’s no one that catches my interest in any way.”

***

The conversation fizzled into nothing. Abraham was more than happy to put that distance between them. He was relieved when Sylas left. He still felt itchy, the man’s warning weighing on his mind. He didn’t think he was getting too close to Dorian. They hadn’t had more than a handful of conversations since they’d left Turncliff, and all of them had left Abraham feeling weary or frustrated. Still, he couldn’t shake how easily he’d read his expression, and the hot prickle of a flush that had moved up the back of his neck.

Abraham jumped as someone plopped into the seat next to him. “You know, you think so loudly that it gives me a headache.” Dorian said. “Honestly, all of this internal conflict is cute and all, but it might be healthier if you just go with the flow.”

“I thought you said it was rude to peek into my mind,” Abraham hissed. Dorian was dressed down - at least by his standards. The collar of his shirt was unlaced, revealing the pale column of his throat. Abraham was surprised to notice a scar there, the perfect indent of teeth, almost translucent against his already pale skin. His dark curls were braided today, the strands shining with wetness. The image of Dorian in the bath came unbidden to his mind, and he flushed again.

“It is,” Dorian said after a long pause, a knowing smile on his lips, “but you just think so loudly sometimes that it’s hard not to notice.” Aggie set a glass of wine down in front of him, and Dorian blew her a kiss, taking a small sip.

“Is there any way you could not do that?” Abraham asked.

“And miss out on your internal struggle as you try to figure out if you’re attracted to me?” Dorian shot him a grin, “Hardly.”

“I’m not though.”

“Of course not,” Dorian replied. He rolled his eyes, taking another sip of his wine. “Well, while you figure yourself out, I want to go over what is expected when we meet Marcus.”

“You act like it’s going to be serious.”

“That’s because it is.” Dorian ran his finger along the edge of his glass. “As I told you, Marcus is a traditionalist. He won’t take kindly if you go in there acting aggressive and suspicious. That will be my job.”

“Okay…” Abraham said slowly, “So what is he like then?”

Dorian glanced around the room. It had filled up while he’d been talking to Sylas. There was music playing from instruments in the corner, and the chatter was loud enough that no one even glanced in their direction. “He’s nobility,” he said carefully.

“And that’s what has you concerned?” Abraham had long since pieced together that Dorian was as well strictly from how he carried himself.

“From Aberon.” He said, giving Abraham a steady look.

He froze, the realization making his blood run cold. “How? HOw has no one noticed that-”

“The same way people don’t notice me.” Dorian replied, “It’s easier to hide when no one has actually seen one of us, and if we’re careful, keep ourselves fed, and employ a bit of well placed makeup, people don’t piece it together. People often see what they want to see, though I know for a fact Marcus has a standing arrangement with the Academy. They keep him safe and in return, they get an unprecedented amount of knowledge.”

Abraham’s face felt hot and prickly, “Does the church know?”

Dorian laughed, “You put far too much faith in them. I don’t know if they do or not. They’re not omniscient, nor are they willing to question such a powerful organization, but that’s not what this is about. As I said, Marcus is a traditionalist. He cares even more than I do about people being… in their proper place.”

“You mean humans.”

“I mean companions, pets, cherished loved ones.” Dorian replied, “It’s one thing for him to teach humans, to see them as students or comrades. He doesn’t get close to them or befriend them, and they don’t claim to be tied to any noble house. But,” he gave Abraham another searching look, “He also isn’t keen on your order, and I would like to present you as my companion, so there are rules that go with that.”

“...and what does that entail?”

“Well, it’s clear you’re not from Aberon.” He said, “And you’re clearly not court trained, too rugged, not sweet enough. Honestly, it would be an insult to keep you if we were at the palace, but since we’re not, I intend to pass you off as someone that I took a fancy to on the east coast.” Something flickered in those dark eyes, and Abraham opened his mouth to argue. Dorian reached out, pressing a cool finger to his lips, “The first rule is that you don't speak out of turn. I’m trying very hard to get this man on my side, and don’t want you causing a political incident.”

“Why?”

“You’re not very good at this. Why what?”

“Why do you need him ‘on your side?’”

Dorian smiled, tracing a sharp nail down Abraham’s chin and the knight leaned away from the touch, “Well, if I’m to sway the Queen, I’m going to need powerful figures behind me. What better person to present the case that there can be peace between our people than someone who has lived among them? Her Majesty doesn’t like Marcus, but many of the nobility do. Having someone well respected will help my cause… so long as you can manage not to embarass me.”

Dorian paused, waiting for Abraham to speak, but the knight said nothing for a long while. He got the distinct feeling that there was something Dorian wasn’t telling him.

“You’re learning already,” the vampire praised, “Truly your role in this is simple. You’re to stand there and look like the perfect, stoic bodyguard. You are not to speak unless spoken to, and even then, you wait until I give you permission to answer.” He dug in his pocket, and pulled out a carefully folded sheet of paper. “I’ve prepared the answers to the questions you will most likely be asked. Memorize them, and do not deviate.”

Abraham scanned the page. The script was immaculate, but his stomach was already twisting into knots, “Why bring me at all if you’re this concerned?”

“Because, your secondary role will be to an observer. I want your opinion on him and what he says. This is very important. I don’t want to sound overly dramatic, but lives could be on the line. Your people’s lives, mainly, but mine as well.”

Abraham studied his face. There was a vulnerability there, in the way his voice tightened. “Are you ever going to explain to me everything, or are you hoping I’ll just go along with the scraps you give me?” He asked.

Dorian’s eyes widened in surprise, “This is why I like you. You’re so perceptive.” He took a sip of wine, humming at the taste, “I want to tell you more, I really do, but now is not the time. I suppose you’ll just have to trust me.” he set down his glass.

He blinked at him, his words heavy on his lips. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

“I don’t blame you, but I ask that you try. I want what’s best for both sides of this conflict. I need to know that you can play along with this act.”

Abraham’s curiosity weighed on him. He knew he would be traveling to the heart of Aberon, and if Dorian’s words were anything to go on, he would be asked to do this again. “Is this what you told the Bishop to get him to let you leave?”

Dorian nodded, “I’m usually very persuasive. He trusted my judgement, should that not be enough for you if you truly put so much stock in your church?”

He fell silent again, and looked around the room. He felt like he was being tested, either by Dorian or by the gods themselves. He honestly wasn’t sure what was worse. “I suppose. Fine… you’ll have my help.”

Dorian’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Perfect!” he looked down at his glass, tapping his fingers on the bar, “You never fail to surprise me, at how trusting you can be. I promise not to take advantage of that.”

“I wouldn’t let you.” Abraham replied.

Dorian gave him a long, pondering look. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

“Why do I always feel like you’re always trying to say more than you are?” He asked. His conversations with Dorian always left him feeling off, like he was missing something important.

“Maybe you’re smarter than I give you credit for,” Dorian tossed back the rest of his drink. “Regardless, I have to play for our supper, so if you’ll excuse me.” And just like that he was gone, hurrying up the stairs.

Abraham watched him go, unable to shake the sinking feeling in his stomach. He’d go to this meeting. Perhaps it would shed more insight on who Dorian was, and what he was hiding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you sick of me yet? I feel like they're finally starting to see eye to eye, if only Dorian would stop being so cryptic and Abraham so stiff... maybe next chapter? I'm actually really excited to go back and edit things once I'm finished with this first draft and smooth some things out.
> 
> Thank you all for reading as always! Every time I check my stats and see that I've gotten a comment or just that more people have read it, I get this burst of joy and it makes me want to write more and more
> 
> You can follow me at:  
> robin-redd on [Tumblr](https://robin-redd.tumblr.com)  
> @RobinRedd8 on[Twitter](https://twitter.com/RobinRedd8)  
> for story updates and to just generally hear about whatever I'm screaming about rn.


	12. Chapter 12 *

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 12! 996 words toady, but I wrote the other half of this chapter yesterday because I couldn't get it out of my head. Marked with a * because of smut! 
> 
> TW for some dubious consent? Dorian doesn't exactly ask for permission?
> 
> If you noticed 11 and 12 were the same, I accidentally posted over 11, it should be fixed now. 9:52am EST 11/12/2020

Araham didn’t stay to see the show. He slipped upstairs as Dorian was coming out, those dark eyes watching him, but saying nothing. He closed the door firmly behind him, his ears straining as he listened for the sound of music. It was muted, the lively tune something he hadn’t expected from the man. His voice was sweeter than he’d expected as he sang a familiar drinking song. He could almost imagine Dorian, his skin flushed with life, his dark eyes glinting with wicked promise in the dim light. 

He cursed, flopping onto his bed. He’d come up here to not think about Dorian. The man had gotten under his skin, speaking with words so honeyed that he’d agreed to something he wasn’t completely sure was in his best interest. He could blame it on loneliness, but that didn’t quite fit the magnetism that Dorian had.

In the few weeks they’d traveled together, Dorian hadn’t once truly been inappropriate towards him. He’d fed from him, made a handful of suggested comments, but the closest he’d come to propositioning him had been the first night he’d drank from them, and even that had felt more teasing that serious. Even naked in the bath, Dorian had been more respectful of Abraham’s boundaries than he’d expected anyone from Aberon to be. Even so, his skin felt itchy when he thought of him, his body warm. There was no denying that Dorian was attractive. He carried himself with such confidence that it was hard not to look. 

Abraham rolled on his side as the music downstairs had picked up, the sound of rhythmic clapping drowning out Dorian’s voice. It wasn’t rare for him to feel arousal. Despite his companion’s taunts - and his own reservations - he wasn’t disinterested in sex. It was more about the principal. He wasn’t allowed to lay with another person, regardless of their gender, but pleasing himself was something of a grey area. It felt wrong, like he was doing something sinful, regardless of if it was a rule. It was hard for him to relax and enjoy it. 

He stared at his bag, his face warm as he remembered the book he’d bought earlier. He didn’t know what madness had possessed him to buy it. There had been many lectures and scoldings at the monastery he’d grown up in whenever such literature was found among someone’s things. He was no longer a child, and no one was searching his bag, but the feeling of shame still lingered. If possessing it was shameful, reading it wasn’t so much worse.

Biting his lip, Abraham reached for his bag, pulling it across the room with a loud scrape. He pulled the book from its hiding spot and turned it over in his hands. The leather was cool, the pages crisp and unbent. He wondered why someone would take the time to make something so inappropriate look like it belonged in a scholar’s library. Glancing at the door, he scooted up the bed, flipping to the first page. 

Excitement and anticipation fluttered in his stomach. His heart was racing as he scanned the words. The story started innocently enough. It described a small town who had the border between their two countries running through the middle of it. Half of the town was controlled by a human mayor, and the other half, by the vampiric lord. Every night, a young man went out to the river to search for a special flower whose petals were said to be able to cure any illness, but only if they were plucked at night. He did so alone, every night until he stumbled across a mysterious man reading by the light of the moon. 

He recognized the man for what he was immediately, and had stood frozen as the creature turned its eyes on him, wide with shock. He’d bolted the first night, and the vampire hadn’t followed. The story continued to describe how he went out night after night, and he ran into the vampire often enough. Every time, he ran away, until eventually, he realized that the man wasn’t trying to hurt him. It described how he introduced himself, and after a series of long talks where they got to know each other, the pair shared their first kiss. The kiss quickly turned into more.

Abraham scowled as the music downstairs turned somber, and he wondered why things had moved so fast. Still, his eyes were glued to the pages, drinking in the descriptions of grasping hands and heaving breaths, of long, lingering kisses and the rush and heat of passion. Abraham’s hand had drifted between his legs, rubbing himself slowly through his pants. He was already painfully hard, and despite the descriptions of the vampire being clear, he couldn’t help but picture dark eyes staring into his own as the lord pulled the man closer. 

His fingers made quick work of his pants, and he shot the door another glance, the sounds of music still going from downstairs. He was sure he had enough time to take care of himself. Abraham pulled out his cock, licking his palm before he took it in hand once again. He held the book with one hand, scanning the pages as the scene unfolded before his eyes. 

The vampire’s hand slid into his partner’s pants, and Abraham moaned, pressing his lips together to muffle the sound. He could almost imagine what it would feel like to have a cool hand touch him, to feel it warming from the heat of his skin. He could imagine sensuous lips coming closer to kiss him, the threat of fangs underneath making him choke back another moan. He tried to turn his mind to other things - other people. There were others that had invaded his mind, but all he could see was pale skin and dark eyes.

Abraham swiped his thumb over his head, the book falling off the bed with a soft thump as he lost himself in his own fantasy. He stroked quickly, fingers tightening on his head with every upstroke. He couldn’t help but rush, the shame of the act only outweighed by the thoughts of Dorian. It being taboo only added to the heat that coiled in his stomach. He imagined the man over him, straddling his hips as he had before, those lips quirking into a smirk. His hands would move slowly, cupping Abraham’s cheek, moving upwards to grip his hair. His free hand followed the path his fantasy took, his own fingers tightening in his short curls, jerking his head backwards to press it more firmly against the bed.

Another moan slipped out, as Abraham squeezed his cock harder. The pleasure sharpened, crested, and the click of the door resounded through the room, making his entire body flush cold. Abraham scrambled to cover himself. His heart galloped in his chest as Dorian leaned against the doorway, looking at him looking too much like a cat who’d found a particularly juicy mouse. 

“Don’t stop on my account.” He said, completely unfazed. “I was wondering why you hurried off so quickly. Imagine my surprise to find you in such a compromising position.”

Abraham held the pillow over his lap, his brain short circuiting. He sat up, kicking the book under the bed so Dorian wouldn’t see. “If you knew what I was doing, then why did you come in?” He demanded, a knot forming in his chest. 

“What can I say? I was a little worried you might need help. I can’t imagine you do this often - not as often as I do at least.” 

Abraham’s face flushed, “Leave.”

Dorian grinned at him. Something dark shifted in his eyes, and he stepped forward, kicking the door shut behind him. “You don’t mean that, do you?” Abraham sat frozen as he came closer. Every ounce of training he had fled his mind, and all he could do was look up at him. Dorian didn’t touch him, but he stood close enough that a single breath would have them touching. “Move the pillow.” His voice was soft, but firm. 

Abraham knew it was against his better judgement. It felt as if Dorian had sucked the air from his room. He shifted the pillow to the side. 

The vampire smiled, he didn’t reach between his legs as he’d expected. Instead, cool fingers touched his face, tracing along his cheek. Abraham shuddered, his muscles locking to stop himself from leaning into the touch. “Keep going.” Dorian ordered. 

Abraham’s fingers felt stiff, his nails digging into his thigh. He couldn’t get himself to move. Desire boiled in his stomach, mixing with the overwhelming feeling that this was wrong. 

“Go on, Ser Radcliff,” Dorian said. His fingers inched upwards, tangling in Abraham’s hair. He tipped his head backwards far more gently than what Abraham had imagined. “I won’t tell anyone. Won’t it feel so good to finish?” 

Abraham’s hand moved, fingers curling around his cock. His erection hadn’t flagged much and it took only a handful of strokes to bring himself back to full hardness. 

“Good,” Dorian said. The floor creaked under his weight as he stepped closer, his shins pressed to Abraham’s knees. He brought his other hand up, dragging a thumb over his cheek, the threat of nail sending a shock down his spine. Abraham gasped, closing his eyes as he stroked himself. He tried to tip his head forward, but Dorian’s grip tightened. “Look at me.” He ordered.

Abraham groaned in frustration, but he opened his eyes, staring into dark pools. He was breathing hard, his entire body tense and flushed with heat. He couldn’t look away, he didn’t want to. Dorian drank him in with the same intensity he had when he was feeding. His braid had fallen over his shoulder, his lips curled back to reveal sharp fangs. The thought of those teeth in his neck sent him over the edge. His entire body stiffening as he came, choking on his gasp. He closed his eyes, spilling himself into his hand. 

Dorian’s fingers gentled, combing through his hair. Abraham’s stomach twisted. His skin felt tight, the knowledge that he’d just done something wrong sinking in his stomach. Dorian stepped back before Abraham could push him away. He wasn’t smiling now, his expression serious. “Easy there, Abraham.” he said, holding up his hands in defense. “Everything’s all right, you didn’t do anything wrong.” 

He felt trapped. Every moment he spent with Dorian made him feel like he was losing more and more of himself. He saw the man reach for him half a second before he was on his feet, wiping his hand on his pants. “I need a bath.” He said suddenly. He tied the laces on his pants, unable to look at Dorian as his heart raced.  
“Abrahm, I would like you to stay.” Dorian said gently, “I don’t want you spiraling on your own. You didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t touch you in any way that would shatter your virtue.” 

Abraham couldn’t listen to this. He felt like something had shattered in his stomach. He hurried out of the room, shoving his hands in his pockets as he stomped down the stairs. The image of dark eyes and sharp teeth followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really wanted to write a bit of smut, so I hoped you enjoyed it! I can't justify them actually getting it on yet, but they're getting there!
> 
> Thank you all for reading! If you liked it, drop me a comment so we can scream about it together. I'm always down for talking about my work. Also if someone knows how to do italics on here, I'll give you a shout-out next chapter if you tell me. I've tried looking online, but when I try what it suggests it doesn't work :/
> 
> You can follow me at:  
> robin-redd on [Tumblr](https://robin-redd.tumblr.com)  
> @RobinRedd8 on[Twitter](https://twitter.com/RobinRedd8)  
> for story updates and to just generally hear about whatever I'm screaming about rn.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 13: 2002 words! The chapter itself is a little longer because part of it is from yesterday's writing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Magnolia_in_black_Velvet for teaching me how to do italics. Apparently Wisdom is my dump stat because I didn't think to take the placeholder characters out of the instructions I found and so naturally it didn't work. Thank you for being amazing and supportive of this story!

Dorian waited in silence for Abraham to return. If he felt regret at all, it was because he had broken his own rules and pushed his way into Abraham’s private time. He was disappointed in himself. Almost seventy years of carefulness - of taking great pains to only feed from the willing and take lovers only after confirming several times that they wanted what he offered - was wasted because of what? He wanted to push Abraham, to see how he’d react, to see if he’d let him push?

Really, he hadn’t expected his companion to allow things to get that far. Abraham was steadfast in his beliefs, and he’d made it clear that he didn’t like Dorian. He’d expected, at best, to be pushed away. Part of him would have preferred that reaction. He didn’t want to get tangled with Abraham, not when things were about to get even more complicated. Still… he’d wanted to test him. He’d heard his thoughts so clearly as he’d come up the stairs, his fantasies so clear that there was no mistaking. Abraham had been thinking about him. He had touched himself to thoughts of Dorian, and Dorian had wanted to know how far that could go. 

Part of him felt exhilarated. He knew Abraham had likely gone along because he’d caught him in a vulnerable moment, right at the point of release, but it meant he still had his edge. He’d gotten a knight of the Holy Empire of Tinian to touch himself while he watched.

_Mother would be so proud._

Dorian leaned back on his bed, wondering if he should have gone after him. No doubt he was engaging in some self-flagellation, bowing and scraping at the feet of his gods. Dorian could imagine it, Abraham on his knees, his head bowed in silent devotion. With how easily he melted at the first hint of intensity, Dorian wondered if he might find him on his knees in other ways. Gagged and blindfolded, perhaps? A foot pressed firmly to the center of his back until he dipped into a full bow.

He waved the thoughts away. That wasn’t likely to ever happen. He didn’t think he wanted it to, either. If all went to plan, even if Abraham agreed to help, their relationship would be strictly superficial. Even if things didn’t go as he liked - and Dorian had played this game enough times to know that it likely wouldn’t - he wouldn’t do something that would destroy Abraham’s life. He teased and pushed, but he did admire him. Devotion was always one of the things Dorian had admired. He didn’t need to complicate things further.

The knock on the door made him flinch, and he got up to answer it, relieved to see it wasn’t Abraham. Instead, a young man handed him a note, a familiar crest pressed into the wax seal. He scanned it quickly. Marcus was summoning them for tomorrow evening in the Academy. A sigh of relief slipped from his lips. He hadn’t been sure the man would see him, all things considered. He would need Abraham to be there, to see this.

He would have to apologize to him. He knew that the slightest misstep could ruin things between him and Abraham. He needed him, and he was honest enough with himself to know that his feelings for the man weren’t strictly borne from his own desires. Abraham was honest, stubborn, and so straightforward that it made Dorian wonder how he’d gotten this far in life.

Hoping to distract himself, he rolled off the bed and picked up the lute. His performance, having eyes on him again, it reminded him how much he loved it. It made him wish he had a violin; then he could really put on a show. He pushed that thought away too. There was no need to reopen old scars. That part of his life was part of his past for a reason. No one could get him to willingly play other than Aggie. 

Still, he missed the spotlight, the feeling of his fingers on strings, his voice soft and sweet. He wished it was deeper, of course, but singing made it difficult to lower his pitch. Still, he loved it - despite how it had been tainted more than a hundred years ago. Dorian absently strummed through some simple scales, closing his eyes as he tried desperately not to think. 

He didn’t know how long had passed, only that it was nearly dawn by the time Abraham returned. Dorian had already taken care to cover the windows, his back to the door when it clicked open. He turned towards the knight, biting his tongue as a snarky comment pressed against his lips. “Abraham.” he said gently, turning back to finish fixing the curtain in place. “Did you have a good walk?” 

He heard a sharp breath behind him, and a smile curled the corners of his mouth. “I did.” 

“Good…” He forced himself to turn around. Abraham was watching cautiously, tense as if he would bolt at the slightest provocation. His apology stuck on his tongue, and he crossed his arms. “Good. I’m glad you were able to clear your head at least a little. I hope you were able to reconcile things within yourself.”

“Dorian-”

He cut him off with a wave of his hand, feeling like a coward. “As lovely as it would be to talk, it’s almost dawn and I am very tired.”

Abraham was still watching him as he crossed the room. He cursed himself for his cowardice. Perhaps it would be easier to wait until after tomorrow, and apologize for it all at once. He had no doubts that he would do something else to make the knight uncomfortable.

“Right…” Abraham’s tone was neutral. It reminded Dorian of when they’d first met. A small part of him ached at the sound of it, but he ignored it. It wasn’t as if they’d been close anyway.

Dorain said nothing else as he curled up on his bed, his back to Abraham. He listened for the sound of movement, wanting to say something, to apologize. Instead, he said nothing, listening to the sound of Abraham settling into bed. He was glad when the sun finally rose and he was dragged into sleep, his entire body relaxing as the world went dark. 

***

His dreams were as they always were, vivid, disjointed, and filled with fragments of memories. He could smell blood, could taste death on his tongue as his fingers dug into sharp, yielding flesh. Bones snapped, and every movement sent a shock-wave of pain through him. He was the one feeding, but he was the one dying. He groaned, stepping back from his kill as the horror of what he’d done sank into him. Dark eyes watched form the shadows, and the scene shifted and they were looking down at him, cold and hungry and cruel. They offered him solace, if only he would take it. He reached out, and then there was pain, sharp, searing pain. He screamed.

Dorian gasped as a hand gripped his shoulder, his entire body jerking in shock. Abraham backed off immediately, his concern vanishing behind a mask of indifference. “You were moaning in your sleep.” he said. There were dark circles under his eyes.

“Sorry…” Dorian said. His chest felt tight, despite the fact that his heart couldn’t race. He pressed a hand to his face, dragging it through his hair where it had come loose from it’s braid. “What time is it?” 

“Dusk,” Abraham replied, “I tried to wake you before that but you didn’t respond.” 

Dorian nodded, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment as he took a deep, steadying breath. “I”m sorry again. I hope I didn’t embarrass you. You know how it goes when you have too good a dream.” He gave Abraham a practiced smile, climbing out of bed to grab his bag. 

“It sounded like a nightmare.” Abraham replied, “You seemed like you were in pain.” 

“Are you sure you want to question that?” Dorian asked. He couldn’t help but push. “I can show you exactly what the dream was about if you’d like. After last night, I’m pretty sure you might like it.” Abraham’s expression stiffened, and Dorian felt a twist of satisfaction. “No?” He pressed, “Well, I suppose we don’t have time for all of that. Marcus will be very upset if we’re late.” 

“We’re meeting him tonight?” 

“Yes,” Dorian upturned his bag onto the bed, scattering clothes and supplies and journals. From the mess he pulled out a small knife, cutting along the seam of the lining. “I told you the meeting was in three days, this is the third night.” He reached into the lining, into a pocket he’d sewn into it before leaving the palace. From it’s depths, he produced a small jewelry box, checking its contents to ensure everything was still there. 

“I want to talk about last night.” Abraham’s tone betrayed his anger. 

The vampire smiled grimly, snapping the box closed. There was the reaction he’d expected. “I’m afraid there’s not much time to talk about it right now.” he countered, “And I see little point, when I’m going to have other things to apologize for tonight. I’m afraid I might confirm some of your biases about me.” 

“What’s going to happen tonight?” Was that fear in his voice? Surely Abraham wasn’t afraid. He doubted it with the way he glared at him. 

“Which is it, Abraham, do you want to talk about last night, or know about tonight? We don’t have both.” He winced at the sharpness of his tone. “Listen, I am truly sorry for how I’ve acted these past few days. I’ve done nothing but push your boundaries and make you uncomfortable, and it’s very likely I’m going to do that again tonight.” Dorian stood. He crossed the room, the box in his hands. “I understand that we are not friends, or even allies. I have no right to ask for your trust, but I need it.” 

“And yet you’ve done nothing to earn it. What are you hiding? Does it have to do with the peace talks? You said yourself, the Queen might not be negotiating in good faith.”  
Dorian froze. He hadn’t realized Abraham had pieced all of that together. He knew he’d revealed too much. “I also said that I wanted to speak to Marcus first, before I told you anything more.” 

“You expect me to just follow you? To do whatever it is you ask when all you’ve done is threaten and insult me.” Abraham’s words were a parody of his own when he’d asked for his blood. Dorian winced. 

“I know… I know…” He sighed, “Abraham, I’m sorry.” He poured every ounce of feeling he could into the words. “I know this is beyond the scope of your task. I know I’ve been vague and cryptic, and have almost killed you only a day before I took advantage of a vulnerable moment you were having. I am deeply, and truly sorry for that. You don’t have to accompany me to this meeting. I release you from my service. You can return to Turncliff and tell the Bishop that you fulfilled your duty.” 

Abraham stared at him, “That’s manipulative and you know it.” Dorian felt like he’d been slapped. The words caught him off guard. Abraham looked at him, his expression calculating, “You told me that you needed me and the church, that you want to ensure that the Queen is arguing in good faith. I want to protect my people as much as you want to protect yours, and I don’t trust that you can do that. I think you know that, and you can’t just threaten to turn me away just to get what you want. There is more going on than you’re saying, and I want to know what it is.” 

“I don’t want to risk that information falling into the wrong hands.” 

“Then you’re just going to have to trust that I can handle myself.” 

Dorian looked down at the box in his hands. “Okay.” He turned, setting it down on the nightstand with a dull click. “A deal then. Come with me tonight, listen to what Marcus and I discuss, get a read on him and what he offers, and when we come back tonight I will explain everything that I can.” 

“You will explain everything.” Abraham corrected.

“I will try.” he was surprised when Abraham nodded, offering his hand. Dorian shook it, tension coiling in his stomach. “Good. If that’s settled, get changed. Wear the nicest thing you have. You can bring your weapons, but leave your holy symbol here.” He pointed to the box. “I want you to wear that on your left wrist. Keep it hidden until we get there. I would rather not get stopped by the guard.” 

Abraham turned away, and Dorian did the same, giving him some privacy. “About last night-”

“If you’re going to act like a child about it, I would rather not.” Abraham didn’t respond, and Dorian sighed, “What we did was a step too far, but it wasn’t _sinful_. I feel bad for pushing your boundaries, not for the act itself.” 

There was the sound of clothes shedding and a tired sigh, “I can’t do those things… not that I don’t want to,” There was hesitation in his voice, “But at best, I could lose my position in the order.” 

“And at worse?” 

“There’s rumors of smiting,” There was a smile in his voice. Tension eased in Dorian’s chest. “But I’ve known knights who have lost their Blessings, who had to take the rites again, if they were able to at all.” 

“I thought you were absolved of your sins.” Dorian replied. He changed quickly, sitting on the edge of the bed. The dark clothes contrasted with his skin. He slipped a ring on his finger that was hidden in another pocket of his bag, his family crest carved into the blood-red stone.

“We are… but…” another sigh, “Honestly, it’s not important. Just know that it won’t happen again.” 

“I had expected as much.” He turned around when Abraham cleared his throat. He was dressed in the fashion of Aberon, tight laces and a high color. It hid the still healing bruise that darkened his skin. It made him look less rugged. Dorian’s gaze swept over his body. A silver bracelet, pounded thin and shining in the dim light was around his wrist. It had the same crest as Dorian’s ring. “Not perfect, but it will do. So, should we be off, or would you like to waste more time talking about things that aren’t going to happen?”  
“Let’s go…” Abraham said, belting a sword in place and sliding his dagger in its sheath on his side. He frowned as he touched it, rubbing his fingers together. There was a moment’s pause before a golden spark flickered between them. 

“Everything all right?” Dorian asked, concerned.

“Yes… Let’s go. You said yourself, we don’t want to be late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter was a lot, but I'm happy with it considering it's a first draft. More than 2500 words by itself. I just had a lot to say! At least the two of them came to an agreement and Abraham didn't blow up at him!
> 
> Next chapter we finally meet Marcus. I'm excited for it. It might be a little longer too but it's Saturday so I have all day to write.
> 
> Thank you for reading as always!
> 
> You can follow me at:  
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	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 14: 4913 words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry in advance for some of the formatting issues. I messed something up when I was putting in italics and it's a lot to try to fix rn

A hot kernel of anger still smoldered in his sternum as Abraham followed Dorian through the city. He’d had all day to think over what they’d done. He’d wrestled with the guilt of it, had taken to prayer late in the day, his own sense of the world muted. He hadn’t been able to explain his sins completely because it would involve admitting that there was a vampire within the city. Though he supposed the revelation that there was at least one other here made that point feel a little less dire. Still, he’d admitted his sin of lust, and the priest had forgiven him for it. He’d thought it would help, but he didn’t feel the usual zip of connection between himself and his weapons. His magic had taken seconds too long to respond, and left him with a dry, brittle feeling that only stoked the fire in his chest. 

He glared at the back of Dorian’s head. The man seemed so carefree, walking through the city as if he owned it, a bottle of wine swiped from behind the bar tucked under his arm. He was dressed in his usual style, dark, tightly laced clothes and pants that fit him like a second skin. It was only the boots that looked out of place. They were the same ones he’d worn when traveling - scuffed brown leather flecked with mud on the heel. The thought that tall black books would look better pierced his bubble of anger and Abraham sighed in frustration. Dorian glanced back at him, his expression unreadable. If he was worried about the explanation Abraham wanted to force out of him, it didn’t show. 

“What should I expect? You said you were going to coach me.” 

“I figured I had explained enough. You follow my lead and do as I tell you.” Dorian replied. His voice was cold, filled with more venom than Abraham thought him capable of.  
Abraham grabbed his arm, pulling him to a stop. “If you want my help, I’m going to need more than that.” 

Dorian glared at his hand, and Abraham tightened his grip. “You’re really going to throw a fit _here _when you had a perfectly good chance to do that back in our room?” His hand shot out, gripping Abraham’s wrist. He squeezed it until Abraham was forced to let go. He looked around, his expression calculating. He pulled him off to the side, into a small alleyway. Grumbling under his breath. “Honestly, I don’t understand you.” He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, “Marcus will likely ask you how long we’ve been together. He will assume you’re my lover, and after last night, you can tell him that we have been intimate without it being a lie.”  
Abraham felt cold. “Is that why you-”__

__“No, but it certainly helps. He will assume I’m feeding from you. Which,” he gestured to his neck where the bruises were hidden, “Clearly I am. He will expect that you obey me, that you will follow my orders without complaint, and that you will be accepting of my touch.”_ _

__“Why?”_ _

__“Because the alternative is him realizing that I’ve told your side about his research, and that will be the exact opposite of what I want.” Dorian reached out, taking Abraham’s wrist and tugging it upwards. The Knight resisted, but Dorian was persistent. He ran his fingers over the crest there, his ring a bright spot in the shadows. “He will assume that this means you’re mine.” Abraham’s stomach twisted. “If all goes well, the most you will have to do is sit there and look pretty.”_ _

__“And what if things don’t go well?”_ _

__“He might ask to feed from you. It’s typically a gesture of trust and respect. I will tell him no, of course, but if he insists, you might have to relent.” He smiled grimly at his own words._ _

__Abraham took a step back from him. “No.” He wouldn’t do this, this was too far, and well beyond the scope of his duties._ _

__Dorian’s expression darkened. “Do you care about your people?”_ _

__“This is not about caring for my people! You are asking me to throw away my vows, and sully myself even more than I already have.”_ _

__“I wouldn’t ask without good reason. I’ve already informed Bishop Dallis about my plans here, and he agreed. Do you know why?” Dorian paused, glaring at Abraham as if he were the one making things difficult. “Because the Red Queen is dangerous, and without my voice in her ear, she’s surrounded by people who would allow a war to go on for centuries so long as they come out on top. Marcus and his research gives my voice weight. Allying with you and your church gives my voice weight. The hundreds of allies I will build in her court once I get there will all help ensure that she listens to my council. You say your Bishops speak for the gods, then listen to them and their judgement. They sent you with me because they thought you would be willing to do anything to protect your people.”_ _

__Abraham felt cold in a way that had nothing to do with the autumn chill. “You think the peace talks are a sham?”_ _

__“I think I would rather be there to influence them than take that chance. If that means doing something I find distasteful, then I will. I know you have no reason to trust me, but as I said, you’re welcome to leave.” Abraham struggled for words, his heart racing in his chest, “But if you would like to help with this, then come with me.”_ _

__He stood there in the shadows as Dorian woved his way through the crowd. He was nearly a month from Turncliff. If he chose to, he could be there well before Dorian reached his country. He could give warning about the talks, and if he was lucky, convince officials that they needed to press into Aberon and finally eliminate them. How many lives would be lost? How much bloodshed? There was no guarantee that they would win, even with the gods on their side. The tension at the border could explode into a full scale war.  
Dorian claimed he wanted to stop that. That he could talk the Queen down, and Abraham was… what? A representative from the church? An ally? A pawn? What if he was telling the truth? _ _

__Abraham closed his eyes, reaching into his pocket for a coin. He sent a silent prayer to the gods, before flipping it, snatching it out of the air and laying it flat on the back of his hand. Head, he would ride to Turncliff, tails he would go after Dorian. He begged the Twins to guide his decision, to show him the right way forward.  
He lifted his hand, and pushed his way back into the crowd after Dorian.  
***  
The Academy towered over everything else in the city. As they got close to it, the homes and shops became nicer. The people going about their nights were dressed as fine as the King himself. Through the window of a tailor’s shop, Abraham saw an older man, dressed in a pure white shirt, taking measurements of his client with a wave of his hand. The lanterns that normally line the streets were replaced with delicate looking glass bulbs that glowed with their own blue light. Magic was so thick in the air, that he could almost taste it like a tingle on his tongue. He focused on the back of his companions head to avoid feeling the press of the crowd. _ _

__Dorian seemed unfazed, winding his way easily through the streets until they reached the Academy grounds. The Royal Academy of the Magical Arts was surrounded by a high wall. The sign outside it was carved from gold, and Abraham wondered what sort of sorcery they used to keep it from being stolen. There were two guards standing on either side of the entrance. They each held long, pole-like weapons, but they did nothing but nod in their direction as they walked past. Abraham felt the subtalist of tingle along his skin as they stepped past the wards on the gate. It was meant to keep evil out, very similar to the ones in the Grand Cathedral. He glanced at Dorian, expecting him to burst into flames. The vampire seemed unbothered, not even breaking stride._ _

__The campus was dotted with several buildings, each one with the same golden lettering to display its name. Students dotted the campus, some scurrying into buildings even at this time of night, while others lounged on the grounds in small groups, food and books scattered around them in their own dome of blue light. No one paid them a second glance as Dorian hurried to a large, multi-storied building, the sign over it’s entrance marking it as Saint Loranna’s College of Alchemy. Tall marble pillars and intricate stonework made this look more like a manor than a place of learning._ _

__The entry was quiet, the furniture as interesting as the outside. It had the same complex patterns as much of the city, but the colors were more muted. There was only a splash of brightness here and there to break it up. Their footsteps echoed on the polished marble floors. A bank of offices lined the far wall, with a large desk standing in front of it. A woman sat behind it, her red hair piled on top of her head in an artful display of curls. She smiled at them as they approached._ _

__“Good evening,” Dorian said, his voice rich and warm. It held none of the frustration he’d held before. He leaned forward, his hand pressed to the polished desk. Abraham didn’t catch what else he said, but his eyes were drawn to the ring on his left finger. He was heavy looking, a crest he didn’t recognize carved into it. No doubt it was the crest for his family - it was the same one that was on the bracelet he’d insisted Abraham wear. It made him wish he knew more about Aberon’s politics. It would answer at least one question he had about Dorian._ _

__After a quick exchange, the woman reached under her desk and pulled out a small stone carved with runes. She spoke into it softly, nodding as she got an equally quiet response. “His office is on the third floor, second door to the right. He’s expecting you.”_ _

__Dorian flashed her a dazzling smile, “Thank you, ma’am. Abraham, let’s go.”_ _

__He scowled at him, but bit back any comments he had. Dorian had said he had a role to play, and if he wanted answers, he was going to play it. He mounted the stairs, their footsteps echoing up the stairwell. Dorian turned back to him as they reached the door, giving Abraham a cool once over. His gaze dropped to the bracelet on his wrist, and Abraham got the distinct feeling that he was yet again being tested._ _

__Dorian’s knock sounded far too loud in the quiet building, and he didn’t wait for an answer before stepping inside. There was a distinct pressure in his ears as he crossed the threshold. Abraham caught sight of runes carefully carved into the doorway, but he didn’t have a chance to look at them._ _

__The office was small, dominated by towering bookshelves stuffed with tomes, and a large desk. Papers were scattered across it, though most of the surface was dominated by a series of tubes and bottles. The room smelled of chemicals and heat, and everything was bathed in a soft, orange light from the sparse lanterns hung on the walls. Everything was carefully maintained, but gave the distinct feeling of age. Abraham recognized a ceremonial dagger on display on one of the shelves. It was said to have been carried by one of the first Knights of the church. He’d seen it’s twin during his training._ _

__All of that paled in comparison to the man that stood behind the desk. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt. It made his skin look darker by comparison. His hair was a deep black, cropped short and smoothed back from his face. His eyes were a deep brown, almost black. He was taller than even Abraham, but slender. A scowl deepened the hard lines of his face. “Unless I’m mistaken, typically people wait to be invited in after knocking.”_ _

__Dorian’s answering smile was filled with sharp fangs. “Yes, well, when have I ever done that?”_ _

__He crossed the room, leaving Abraham to close the door behind them. Marcus’ lip curled, “Perhaps you should start. I distinctly remember telling you that if I saw you again, I would kill you.”_ _

__“And yet you sent for me when I requested to see you.” Dorian pressed his palms to the desk, leaning forward, “Now why would that be?”_ _

__“Because I like telling you to fuck off in person, your pretty face gets that scrunched up look and it’s fun.”_ _

__Dorian laughed again, the sound was almost harsh, scraping. “How about a real answer? You and I both know that you wouldn’t have agreed if you didn’t want to see me. Is it that you missed me, Marcus?” He reached out to touch him, his long fingers gently tracing the delicate skin of his wrist. “Or were you just curious about what I had to offer?”  
“Neither,” Marcus moved his hand back, his dark eyes flicking to Abraham. “And this is?” _ _

__“A friend,” Dorian replied, holding out his hand for Abraham to take. He carefully controlled his expression. Cool fingers laced with his own, pulling him gently to his side, “Marcus, this is Abraham Radcliff. Abraham, Professor Marcus Brelot, a dear colleague, friend, and my child by blood, but my brother by birth.” His hand tightened on Abraham’s hand, a silent warning as he drew him forward, pressing his palm to the knight’s lower back._ _

__“It’s… a pleasure,” Abraham said, his voice stiff._ _

__“I apologize, Marcus, he’s still very new, I was hoping to get him trained properly once we reached the palace. Abraham, bow properly.”_ _

__Abraham’s chest felt tight. He glared at Dorian, ducking into a quick bow that he hoped would be sufficient._ _

__“New indeed…” Marcus said, his brows drawing together as if he were trying to hear something from far away._ _

__“Very much so. We met on the road.”_ _

__“Did you?” He turned his gaze to Abraham, and he felt a prickle of magic along his skin, like someone was walking fingers up the back of his neck._ _

__Abraham opened his mouth to speak, but the hand on his lower back tightened, tugging in gentle reminder. He glanced at Dorian who nodded. “Yes,” He replied. He turned prayers over in his mind, forming them into magic of protection, against evil and invasion. He’d never been good at non-verbal magic, but the feeling of fingers went away.  
Marcus sighed, looking to his brother. Now that Dorian had said it, the resemblance was even more striking, “Why are you here?” _ _

__“Can’t I inquire about your research?” Dorian asked. He sat down in the chair across the desk. He set the bottle on the table between them. “A gift. It’s still your favorite, yes?”  
Marcus glared at the bottle, but sat down. “The last time you asked after my research, I was thrown from the court and forced to exile here. Is it safe to assume that I should start packing my office and find a boat to take me across the sea?” _ _

__“That was so long ago, I was a different person then. I’ve since realized the merits of your work, how… important it is.”_ _

__“So you don’t intend to run back to your mistress and tell her all about it?” His voice was like ice, but his eyes burned as he looked at Dorian._ _

__“What happened last time was a mis-step on my part. I thought her Highness needed to know about this. I was wrong.”_ _

__“She tried to kill me, Dorian.”_ _

__“And I saved you.”_ _

__Marcus slammed his hand on the desk, making the glassware on it rattle. His lips were curled back from his teeth, a dark, black hatred in his eyes. He was breathing hard.  
“Are you finished?” Dorian was unfazed, leaning back in his chair as he waited for the outburst to be over. “We’ve gone over that hundreds of times. I would really rather not waste the night arguing. You didn’t just invite me here to tell me to fuck off in person.” _ _

__Marcus picked up the bottle of wine, reading the label. “Glasses are in the cupboard behind you.” He held it out to Abraham. “Pour us some.”_ _

__Dorian took the bottle instead, laying a hand on Abraham’s wrist, his fingers deliberately tracing along the bracelet. “You don’t get to order him around.”_ _

__“Is he actually yours? He doesn’t seem to like you much.”_ _

__“I can assure you, he’s mine enough that he came here with me.” Abraham winced, looking down at Dorian. He opened his mouth to argue, but was cut off, “Go ahead, pour the wine.”_ _

__Abraham jerked the bottle from Droian’s grasp, scowling once his back was turned. He busied himself with opening the bottle while the two of them talked._ _

__“How are your students?” Dorian asked, “Honestly, I didn’t expect to find you in such a public role, and with humans.”_ _

__“It’s easy when you don’t see them as cattle.” The sharpness of his tone told him that it was meant to be a jab. “And spending quite a bit of time away from court helped undo much of what the Queen preached. Though I suppose you wouldn’t know.”_ _

__Abraham turned back around, glasses in hand. Marcus was watching him again. “No, I suppose I haven’t changed as much as I’d like to think. I haven’t been home in some time.” Dorian took the glass offered to him, motioning for Abraham to set the other down. Dorian took a sip of his wine, gently pulling Abraham back to his side._ _

___”You_ left?” Marcus asked, raising an eyebrow. He scooped up his glass.Dorian’s hand moved down Abraham’s back like he was petting a particularly uncomfortable dog.  
“I did. Fifty years ago.” His hand dipped lower, flirting with the hem of Abraham’s shirt. He squirmed, shifting out of Dorian’s grip. “I took an interest in science after finding some of your old notes actually. There was some merit to them and… after, well I suppose you weren’t there to see it, but suffice to say, I couldn’t stay any longer.”  
“Did her Majesty’s favorite finally fall off of his pedestal?”_ _

__“Something like that.” Dorian said. He reached for Abraham again, pulling him closer with a bit more force. He grasped the back of his shirt, tugging him downwards. “Sit.” He ordered, and Abraham stared at him in confusion. The clarification wasn’t much better. “At my feet.”_ _

__Abraham hesitated. He could feel Marcus’ eyes on him, and he risked a glance. He frowned at him as if he were trying to understand him. Once again, he felt the prickle on the back of his neck. Dorian’s grip tightened suddenly, pulling him off balance. Abraham stumbled, catching himself with his hand on the chair over Dorian’s shoulder. The movement brought them closer together. “Sit. Down.” Dorian’s voice was level, filled with something dark and dangerous._ _

__Abraham sat. He had to press himself against Dorian’s legs to stop himself from being squished against the desk. Dorian’s hand dropped to his hair, combing through his curls.  
“How do you find the city,” he asked from above him. _ _

__“Much the same as the ones back home. It’s surprising. They worship a different figurehead and follow it blindly, but otherwise, it’s much the same. Students are still bored in lectures, taxes are still due at the end of each quarter.” Marcus sighed, “I suppose I find the Tinian’s church and its stranglehold on academics more tiresome than that of the Queen. At least she didn’t force her way into your business unless you gave her a reason to. The church insists that half of my research is heretical, regardless of it it’s useful to them. I haven’t been able to publish my findings in years.”_ _

__Dorian crossed his legs, the toe of his boot pressing between Abraham’s shoulder blades. “That explains why I wasn’t able to find anything when I started digging. You must miss home.”_ _

__“I don’t miss court life - and I certainly don’t miss her Majesty - but yes. I miss having a selection of donors, someone handsome and strapping to warm my bed.” His gaze dropped to Abraham, who met his look of longing with a hard glare before he caught himself. “And real blood. I’ve found a substitute, when it’s too dangerous to hunt in the city, but it’s not nearly as good. It’s like drinking thin broth when all you want is a hearty, meaty stew. I do well enough with my students, of course, but… it can be difficult if one of them tries to get a little too friendly.”_ _

__“That sounds frustrating.” Dorian agreed._ _

__Marcus’ words made him tense. He hadn’t considered that the man might not have fed on humans, that even a city as loose as Orlet would be dangerous enough that he would have to find something else to sate himself. The way Marcus watched him suddenly made his skin crawl._ _

__“Surely you didn’t come all this way to make me homesick. Why are you here, Dorian? What are you looking for?”  
“The same thing as you. I want a cure, or at least a way to mitigate some of the effects.” _ _

__“That’s not what you said last time we spoke.”_ _

__“Last time we spoke, I wasn’t in nearly the same place as I am now.” His voice dropped, tracing one finger down the back of Abraham’s ear. “I was wrong about a lot of things back then.” He shifted, and Dorian’s foot pressed a little more firmly against his back in silent warning. “But I’ve learned now.”  
“But not completely.” Marcus leaned over his desk, to look down at the man at his feet. _ _

__“What can I say? Old habits and all that.” He smoothed his hand down the back of his neck, and Abraham shifted uncomfortably. It had been a long time since he’d had this much contact with someone. It took everything he had to stay still. “But I’m much more careful now. I don’t treat them as… cruelly as I did before.”_ _

__“I find that hard to believe.”_ _

__“I know… but as Abraham here can attest, I’ve been nothing but kind to him.”_ _

__“I would rather Abraham speak for himself on that matter.”_ _

__Dark eyes turned towards him, and he swallowed, looking down. “He hasn’t been cruel.”_ _

__“I wonder, would your answer be the same if he wasn’t in the room?” Marcus scowled, “Why are you here, Dorian? You forget that I’ve known you your whole life. I know you don’t do anything unless it serves you. The fact that you’re here, forcing a man who clearly dislikes you to play pet, says as much. Did you think it would distract me? To be presented with someone that’s my… type? To have a taste of home after so long?”_ _

__“I had hoped it would remind you of what you can have again. I want to make you an offer, Marcus. Something that helps us both.”  
“And what might that be?” _ _

__“How do you like it here, Marcus?”_ _

__“I think we’re done.” Marcus’ chair scraped against the floor as he stood. “Please leave.”_ _

__“It’s a simple question. Do you like working at the Academy, surrounded by humans who would rip out your entrails while you still live and hang your head on a spike if they found out who you are?” Marcus was silent, _“Does_ anyone know what you are?” _ _

__“Get out, Dorian.”_ _

__“I’d wager not, then. You must be lonely, here all by yourself, where your research isn’t respected, where your findings are buried or branded blasphemous.” Dorian leaned forward, his foot pressing hard enough against his back that Abraham had to bend double. “What if I could offer you protection while you studied?”  
“And where would this protection come from? It seems neither side is particularly interested in my work.” _ _

__“I am, and I can promise you a place in the palace, if you want it.” He smiled. “You could have all the time and money you could want to pursue this.”  
“And the Queen would be okay with this? You said yourself you haven’t been home in half a century. Forgive me if I doubt that you still speak for her.”  
“I’ve always spoken for her, and she’s always listened.”_ _

__“I doubt she would listen to something that could completely destabilize her power and turn her back into an ordinary woman with a god complex. Not even you are that good.”  
“What if I was?” Dorian repeated. “What if there was someone on the throne that was sympathetic to you? Or, if you would rather not go back, I would only request your testimony when the time comes, and I can ensure your safety here. You could keep teaching, keep being around humans, but I could offer you a taste of home as well as protection and companionship.” _ _

__“My word doesn’t mean much in Aberon.”_ _

__“You’d be surprised. Last time I was there, there were more than a few that believed in your work and wanted to follow the questions you posed all those years ago. I could have them sent here, along with a handful of companions. I know for a fact the first son of Prime Minister Rayland has recently learned of your research. I’m sure he would be more than willing to speak to his mother on your behalf.”_ _

__“And what do you get in return?” Marcus asked, doubtful._ _

__“Your assistance, should I need it. Should the Queen refuse to see reason.” Dorian set his glass down, looking up at his brother with a sharp smile, “Though I would of course need proof myself, that your research has bore fruit. That would be very useful indeed.”  
“If I had proof, I would have already used it on myself.” _ _

__“But surely you must have something after all these years.”_ _

__“If I show you what I have then I want something in return.”_ _

__“I’ve already named my terms.”_ _

__“I want a taste of your pet.” he said the word like it was an insult, “A few mouthfuls. And then you can decide for yourself if my research is worth it.”_ _

__Dorian tipped his head back, humming in thought. Abraham looked at him with wide eyes. He’d said he would say no. His hand dropped to the sword at his hip. He wouldn’t let this happen, even if he didn’t agree. Abraham held his breath, waiting for Dorian to speak. “If he is willing, of course you may.”_ _

__Abraham shook his head automatically. “No.” He said firmly. He looked at Dorian, “You said-”_ _

__“Come now. Think about this.” Dorian uncrossed his legs, planting them on either side of Abraham’s body. Before the knight could get to his feet, his hand shot out, gripping his shoulder with enough strength to grind the bones together. “You of all people will be just fine with a little blood loss.” Dorian reached out, gripping his chin tightly between two fingers. “We’re talking about a cure here, Abraham. If we can help Marcus develop one, just think of what that could mean for everyone.”_ _

__Dorian looked at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. Abraham could see the uses for such a thing. Scholars had been trying to find a way to save people from the vampire scourge since they'd started to spread across the continent, but nothing was possible. Once someone had gone so far as to be consumed by such vile forces, there was no bringing them back. Dorian's thumb made slow, comforting circles on his shoulder. He leaned forward, the curtain of his hair hiding his expression for a moment as he looked into Abraham's face. There was sympathy there, and apology that couldn't be voiced. He spoke softly, so that only he could hear. "Think carefully before you say no. There are people you trust that agree with pursuing this," Abraham let out a shaking breath. Dorian had said he'd explained things to the Bishop, and they had given him the go ahead. It's no doubt why he was able to walk out of the Grand Cathedral at all. He wondered, wildly, just what it would take for a vampire to turn to an organization that wished him nothing by death. How dire must he think things were? Dorian’s grip tightened on his shoulder, giving what he no doubt thought was comfort._ _

__“I need a moment.” Abraham said. The room felt too hot, too stuffy. “Some air…”_ _

__Dorian sat back, “Of course… I’ll come with you.”_ _

___“No,_ ” He insisted, “No, I just need a moment to collect myself, and then…” He glanced towards Marcus, stomach turning. If he didn’t get out of here, he was going to start fighting. Abraham shot to his feet, stalking across the room. His sword banged loudly against Dorian’s chair as he passed, rushing down the stairs and out into the cool, damp night._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading. This one was a long one and I'm still not done, I just had to cut it here because I've literally been writing since I woke up today. Idk how I feel about this chapter. Maybe not my best work, but it's here! I hope to have more with Marcus next chapter. He hates Dorian a lot more than I thought he did
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed
> 
> You can follow me at:  
> robin-redd on [Tumblr](https://robin-redd.tumblr.com)  
> @RobinRedd8 on[Twitter](https://twitter.com/RobinRedd8)  
> for story updates and to just generally hear about whatever I'm screaming about rn.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 15!!! 2663 words today!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're at the halfway mark team! I say that as if I'm not going to see this story through to the end. I'm pretty sure this is going to be divided into three "books" I'm really excited for it!

Abraham fled the Academy grounds, sucking in lungfuls of air. This late into the night, the streets were finally starting to empty out, leaving nothing but bright lights and the tinge of magic on the air. He couldn’t do this. Damn his duties and damn Dorian too. He was going back to Turncliff. If he faced disciplinary action, then so be it, but no one could blame him for not being able to do this. 

He was thankful for the quiet of the inn. There were only a few people still left drinking. Aggie looked up from her cleaning when he entered, her expression shifting from surprise to confusion, to concern at whatever she saw on his face. “Abraham?” She said gently.

He shook his head, weaving his way between tables to get upstairs. He didn’t want anyone trying to convince him that Dorian was good and novel. He wanted out. She caught his sleeve as he passed, pulling gently. Her fingers closed around the bracelet around his wrist, and her lips thinned. “What did he do?” she asked.

Abraham shook her hand off. “If he comes back after I’m gone, tell him that I said he can find his own way to Aberon.” It was better than waiting until he got back. He wasn’t sure he wouldn’t kill him. He rested his hand on the hilt of his blade, the realization that it had been weeks since he’d felt this way towards Dorian. 

“Abraham, how about we have a seat. You can’t go anywhere this late, anyway. City guard won’t open the gates until morning.” Aggie said gently. She motioned to the bar. “I can get you a drink. Do you drink?” 

He felt fragile, like he was going to shatter at the slightest touch. A fine tremor had started in his hands, her gentle words as effective as a hammer against his resolve. She knew… she knew what Dorian was. The pendant to the Twins swung around her neck as she slipped back behind the bar, giving him the space to choose. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to confess to the church without putting himself and Dorian in danger, but she was at least a godly woman. Not a priest, she couldn't absolve him, but the thought of holding onto this all the way back to Turncliff until he could face the Bishop made him sick. 

Abraham bolted upstairs. The door bounced against the wall as he shoved it open and started blindly shoving his things into his bag. A soft knock at the door made him flinch, and he glared at it, sure that it was Dorian coming to talk him into staying. He shouldered his bag and flung it open, ready to fight his way passed if he had to. 

He found himself staring into dark eyes, but they weren’t Dorian’s. Marcus had his hand raised as if he was going to knock again. His eyes darted to the bag on Abraham’s shoulder. “I apologize for the interruption.” he said, his voice more gentle than it had been in his office. There was a tightness around his eyes that made Abraham wince. “I am told that my brother was misleading about your relationship to him. He said you might be here, and I’d like to buy you a drink and apologize for my behavior, if you’ll allow it.” 

Abraham stared at him. This was no doubt just another trick, another manipulation. 

“Very likely,” Marcus replied, and Abrham cursed, forgetting that the man could likely hear his thoughts, being related to Dorian. “But it doesn’t change that I was rude, and inappropriate.”

“Where is he?” 

“Ransacking my office no doubt, searching for something he won’t be able to find.” Marcus gave a grim smile, “I left him there, I figured it would keep him busy while I went after you.” He motioned downstairs, “Join me for a drink? I promise I won’t keep you for too long, and then you can continue on your way. The gods know I don’t blame you.” 

“I don’t owe you anything.” 

Marcus laughed. It scraped against Abraham’s already shot nerves. “After the mess tonight of course you don’t, but I owe you an apology. Besides, it will give you a chance to complain about my brother before you go.” Abraham hesitated, and Marcus let out a tired sigh. “I’m not going to stand here all night, do you want information about my brother and the Queen or not?” 

Abraham set his bag down. “One drink, and if you try to convince me to stay-” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Marcus turned to walk ahead of him, giving Aggie a nod as he took a seat by the fire. He crossed his legs nodding to the woman when two glasses were set in front of him. One was the same deep red wine that Marcus had been drinking in his office, and the other was the ale he’d ordered the afternoon before. “So, I’m not nearly as good at this game as my brother is,” Marcus began as Abraham sat stiffly on the edge of his seat, “But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for how I treated you. If I had known that you were just a pawn in his games, I would have been less… forward.” 

“I thought I was your type.” Abraham shot back. He scooped up his mug, taking a large gulp. It eased something in him, the warmth of it on the back of his throat a comfort.   
Marcus laughed again, “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re lovely, truely, but I would have taken anyone so long as they had a pulse and were willing, and Dorian knows that.”   
“He knew you would be interested in me?” 

“Yes,” Marcus swirled his wine around his glass, “And if you’re surprised that he would do such a thing either you’re an idiot or he’s done a very good job of hiding his true nature.” His dark eyes flickered to Abraham’s face, “I would put money on the second one.” 

“He’s always been like this then?” Abraham settled back in his seat. He kept himself angled towards the door in case Dorian came back early.

“Oh yes. His entire gods damned life… or at least since he learned to talk.” Marcus stared into the fire. “We were young when things started to change. More and more people started to get turned by vampires, and we weren’t exactly wealthy enough to afford any kind of protection like some nobility could. We managed to get by. I did what I could to take care of our siblings, being the oldest. After I came of age - Dorian was perhaps sixteen or so - our village was attacked. This was just after the Queen took power and started punishing anyone who acted so violently. It was bad… a bloody night. We lost most of our family.” 

“Are you trying to make me feel bad for him?” 

“Hardly, he doesn’t deserve your sympathy. I’m just explaining why he’s so… much like he is. Coming from where we did, he got good at talking his way out of trouble, making sure we could survive. When the Queen’s guard arrived six hours too late, he managed to convince them to take us - that is him, myself, and one of our sisters - on at the palace.” Marcus sucked on his teeth as he took another sip of wine. “We began working at the palace doing whatever needed doing. He and our sister worked attending to nobles, I ended up working in the stables. He rose through the ranks quickly. He was talented… and pretty. He caught the eye of some powerful people.” Marcus shook his head, “But I won’t deny him the chance to tell his own story. Angry as I am at him, I don’t want to paint him in the wrong light.

“What matters is that he was turned, joined the Queen’s court, and immediately raised our status. I don’t know what he did to ensure our comfort and protection, and honestly I don’t want to. He did what he thought he had to, and in return, we were treated like… amusing animals. Our sister found a wealthy husband, and was more than willing to join him in immortality. Dorian offered to turn me as well, and I vehemently denied him… several times in fact. Dorian’s always been a bit selfish. He’s always found a way to get what he wants, no matter the cost. He didn’t like being told no. We argued about it often, and he insisted that he wouldn’t watch me die. I told him that I would rather die than live out the rest of my life as a monster,” Marcus set his glass down, shaking his head, “I enjoyed the comfort his position afforded me all the same. I was taught to read and write. I was given access to the royal libraries and eventually laboratories where I began researching.” 

“I remember hearing about people looking for a cure,” Abraham offered, his gaze darting towards the door, “The church still does, but little has come of it.”   
“I didn’t start out looking for one. I wanted to know where they came from, so that I might understand what had happened to cause such a drastic mutation in people. I stumbled on something promising and excitedly told my brother. He told the Queen. She summoned me to her chambers,” Marcus’ gaze was distant. He frowned, “I don’t remember much after that. I woke up twenty-four hours later with Dorian profusely apologizing.

“I can’t express how angry I was with him. There are no words to describe that white, hot anger. He’d almost gotten me killed, and then dared to go against my wishes. He has always done things like that, pushing people past their comfort only to beg for forgiveness after.” 

“So I’ve seen.” Abraham said, his own anger rising again.

“You don’t even know half of it. He used to be worse… much worse. Humans were playthings to him at best. With the Queen in his ear - and likely the thrill of having power - he made what happened tonight seem like child’s play.” 

“That’s not how I see it.”

“No, I suppose not, but it doesn’t make it any less true. He’s changed. I wouldn’t have believed it myself if I hadn’t seen him let you walk out of my office.” 

“What do you mean?” Abraham asked, his mouth going dry.

“He didn’t throw you across my desk and hold you down or rip your throat out for disobeying.” Marcus said, a wry smile curling at his lips. “Not that I would have let him do that - I have some standards - but I didn’t have to stop him.” 

“It doesn’t mean I can forgive him.” 

“And I don’t expect you to,” Marcus gave him a look like he was wondering if he’d made a mistake in thinking he wasn’t an idiot, “It’s been eighty years since my brother turned me into a vampire and transformed my execution into exile, and I am nowhere near forgiving him.”

Abraham didn’t know what to say to that. He drained his mug, waving Aggie over for another. “Do you know why he did it?” He asked, hating the thread of vulnerability in his voice. “I’d thought… we were getting along.” 

“Ambition, most likely. I suspect with how he spoke he’s set his eyes on the throne.” Marcus said it so frankly. Abraham choked, his eyes wide. “Though he’ll never admit it, and it’s just as likely that he has a billion other plots in the works.” 

“Then why is he interested in a cure, and why did he come to-” Abraham stopped, he didn’t want Marcus to know he was a vampire hunter if he didn’t already.

“Go ahead and say it, I’m not going to fly into a homicidal rage as he thinks I will. If I had that big of a problem with your Knights, I wouldn’t be able to live here.”   
“Why would he come to the church for help, or try to keep me on his side?” 

“Who knows?” Marcus shrugged, the movement so similar to Dorian that it made his chest tight. “It’s just as likely that he is interested in making peace. He has been on this side of the border for fifty years. Being around people and having to treat them as human changes you. It makes it harder to kill them or treat them like property. You’re still alive and he hasn’t completely turned you into his willing pawn.” another shrug. “How did you really come to meet him?” 

“I was assigned to him by Bishop Dallas in Turncliff. I was told to take him to the capitol in Aberon.” 

“And are you going to?”

Abraham hesitated. Before this conversation, the answer was no, but now… he wasn't so sure of his conviction. He was still pissed, but not quite so ready to bolt. A small part of him worried who Dorian would turn his sight on if he did leave. Knowing that this was all a game made it easier to stand his ground. “I don’t know,” he said honestly.

“Can I give you a word of advice then?” 

“Sure.”

“If you do decide to stay, and see this duty of yours out to the end, be careful around my brother. Changed or not, Dorian can always be trusted to act in his own self-interest. Getting close to him could get you killed… or worse.” 

Abraham turned that over. From where he sat, he saw the door swing open and a familiar dark-haired figure step inside. He caught sight of them, making a beeline for where they sat. 

“Speak of a devil.” Marcus grumbled, fixing his brother with a dark glare.

“Don’t be so mean,” Dorian said, stopping beside Abraham’s chair. The knight tensed when he rested a hand on the back of it. “You seem calmer. I hope my dearest brother had only good things to say.” 

Abraham felt the hand slide towards him and he shifted forward, “Dorian if you touch me, I will break your hand.” he threatened. 

Marcus laughed loudly, and Dorian removed his hand from the chair, taking a deliberate step back, “My apologies, not as calm as you seem then.” He looked towards his brother, “You had a good talk I hope.” 

“We did.”

“And have you come to a decision about my offer?” 

“Yes.” 

Dorian’s eyes widened in surprise, “And?” 

“This has been an awful visit. If you manage to get back to the Queen’s side before Ser Radcliff kills you, best of luck,” Dorian’s expression shuttered closed and Marcus gave him a wicked smile, “And if you can manage to convince her Highness not to rip my heart from my chest and eat it in front of me, send a letter. The palace is always lovely in winter.” Marcus stood, wiping his hands on his pants. He nodded to Abraham, “Think about what I said, please. I wish you nothing but safe travels whichever direction you choose.” 

Abraham watched him sweet out of the inn and into the chilly night. Dorian stood there, frowning down at him as if he were trying to figure out a puzzle. He said nothing, leaving Abrham to be the one to break the silence. “Dorian?” 

“Yes?”

“If you ever do anything like that to me again, I will kill you. Duty or not. Do you understand?” 

“Absolutely.” 

Abraham’s bones creaked with tiredness as he stood, “This isn’t over. You still owe me an explanation before I decide if I’m coming with you.” 

“Of course.” 

Dorian didn’t follow him up, but Abraham heard the door open and close after he’d settled in, and the sound of boots clicking on the floorboards. Just before he drifted off to sleep, he thought he heard a soft voice drift from the other bed. “For what it’s worth… I am sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I feel better about this chapter! Yesterday was a rough one. Between dealing with family drama and realizing that I start T in like... three days, I was a lot more harsh on the last chapter than I should have been. 
> 
> As always, if you enjoyed, feel free to drop me a comment because I love seeing what people think! It's so amazing that anyone is reading this. I didn't expect there to be any interest!
> 
> You can follow me at:  
> robin-redd on [Tumblr](https://robin-redd.tumblr.com)  
> @RobinRedd8 on[Twitter](https://twitter.com/RobinRedd8)  
> for story updates and to just generally hear about whatever I'm screaming about rn.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 16! 1999 words!

Abraham woke slowly. His body felt too heavy, his mind foggy. Every time he closed his eyes, he drifted off again, with no way of knowing how much time stretched between each time. He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face as he rolled over. His eyes were gritty. A fire had been started in the fireplace, casting a flickering light over the room. Dorian’s bed was empty, carefully made as if he’d been away from it for some time. Dragging himself from sleep, he pulled on a fresh shirt, scratching at his overgrown beard. Glancing outside, he was shocked to see that it was dark. It had been a long time since he’d slept so long, and he knew that if he laid back down, he’d drift off again. It was only the hunger gnawing at his stomach that pushed him downstairs. 

Dorian was sitting at the bar when he arrived. He looked as pristine as always. With not a hair out of place, he was perfectly laced up in his ridiculously constrictive outfits. Abraham wondered how he was able to move with so much thick fabric. It wasn’t even like he had to worry about the cold. After his talk with Marcus, Abraham could see the facade in his smile. It looked as carefully in place as the rest of him, dazzling when he turned it on the barkeep - a young woman that Abrham had seen working during the day. She was laughing at something he’d said, and Dorian leaned in, long fingers tracing over the wooden bar. He said something soft and quick, the woman’s face flushing scarlet. Abraham dropped heavily into the seat beside him, his stool scraping loudly across the floor. 

“Ah, and here he is.” Dorian said, sitting back. He seemed unfazed. If he was worried about speaking to Abraham, it didn’t show in the smile he turned on him. “Good morning, Ser Radcliff. I was worried I was going to have to call for a doctor when you didn’t wake. It’s not like you to sleep so long.” 

“Stop.” Abraham said firmly. He was too tired to play this game. “Drop the act, please.” 

Dorian’s expression didn’t change, “Join me by the fire? It seems winter has come early this year.” 

“Dorian-”

“Kenna, love.” He turned his dark eyes to the bartender again. “I think we’re ready to eat. Can you have it brought to the table over there.” He gestured to the table Abraham and Marcus had sat at the night before.

“Of course, sir,” She gave a quick bow of her head. 

Before Abraham could protest, Dorian was on his feet and striding across the room. He slid into the chair furthest from the fire, giving Abraham an expectant look. Getting to his feet, the knight followed, “I know what you’re trying to do,” He growled. The warmth of the fire was nice, but it did little to clear his head. 

“Do you? How perfect, one conversation with my brother and you have me all figured out.” Dorian crossed his legs. The flickering light cast shadows on his face, making him look older. “Maybe you just seemed cold. It would be rude of me to let you sit in discomfort.” Plates of food were set in front of them. Choice cuts of meat and a generous helping of roasted potatoes, made his stomach growl. “I took the liberty of ordering for you, I hope that’s all right.” 

“It’s not.” 

“Oh?” Dorian cocked his head to the side, “I thought you might like this. It seemed-”

“Dorian, stop talking. You’re not helping your case.” Abraham snapped. He clenched his fists. The vampire’s expression hardened, dark eyes glittering. “You promised me an explanation, and unless you give it, I’m going back to Turncliff and you can do whatever it is you’re trying to do without my help.” 

“Fine, let’s get this over with. Ask your questions.” 

“I want your word that you’ll tell me the truth.” 

“Didn’t Marcus warn you? I do nothing but lie.” 

“He warned me you were selfish.” 

“Accurate, I suppose. I guess he doesn’t consider that I did everything for him and our sister,” There was genuine anger glinting in his eyes. The cast of the fire made the set of his jaw seem more severe. “The problem with Marcus is he doesn’t like to get his hands dirty. He never has.” 

“I’m not here to talk about Marcus.” 

“No? Then what do you want to know?” 

“Your word, Dorian. If you want my help, I want the truth.” 

The vampire sighed, gritting his teeth. He pressed his hand to his chest. “I cannot truthfully swear on your gods, but I swear on my own life - something that I value more than anything on this earth - that I will answer your questions truthfully, to the best of my knowledge.” Abraham frowned at him, and Dorian met his glare with one of his own, “That’s all I have to offer. If you refuse to believe that, then this conversation is pointless, and I will see you on the other side of the war.” 

Abraham took a deep breath, picking up his utensils to dig into his food. “Fine. Tell me why you’re really so desperate to get home.” 

“I already told you. I have reason to believe the Red Queen is not negotiating in good faith. I feel she needs a voice of reason to temper her moods.”

“That’s not all you’re doing.” 

“What do you think?” Dorian pressed. He leaned forward, resting his elbow on his knee. He was smiling again, a challenge.

“Is this all a game to you?” Abraham snapped, slamming his hand against the table. “Can’t you just give me a straight fucking answer.”

Dorian’s smile widened, “Humor me. I genuinely want to know what you’ve pieced together.” 

Abraham ground his teeth, pouring every ounce of frustration into the glare he turned on Dorian. “Marcus said-”

“I thought we weren’t talking about Marcus.” 

“Stop interrupting me.” Abraham’s voice rose, and several eyes turned their direction. He growled in frustration, leaning forward. Dorian pressed his lips together, clearly amused. “Marcus mentioned that you had your eye on the throne.” 

“Did he now?”

“Do you?” Abraham popped a potato in his mouth, as the silence stretched between them.

“That would be treason.” He replied easily, a non-answer. 

“Are you planning on asking me to commit regicide?” 

“I suppose it would be matricide in my case, but you said it, not me.” A pause while he studied Abraham’s face, “I did, what would you say? Hypothetically, of course. I would never dream of plotting against the crown.” 

“I’d wonder if that’s why you went to the Bishop.” 

“I asked him for someone steadfast in their beliefs, loyal to their country, and capable of slaying dangerous foes. He assigned me to you.” 

“And what did you offer them?” Abraham demanded.

“A potential weapon against their foes.” 

“A cure.” 

“Something like that.” Dorian’s smile was full of fang, “Provided Marcus’ research bears fruit, of course.” 

“Did you tell them you wanted someone to assassinate your Queen.” 

“Of course not, but I know there is currently a bit of divide in her court. She had many political rivals, and her grasp on the crown is tenuous as of late. A touch of madness, I think. If something were to happen to her, she hasn’t named an heir, sure as she is that she will reign for all time. Anyone could make a bid for the throne.” Dorian leaned forward, “I’d like to avoid that, of course. If anyone can smooth tensions at court, it’s me.” 

“You must think highly of yourself.” Abraham shot back.

“It’s a statement of fact. I’m very good at getting people to work together.” Dorian sounded so sure of himself. For a moment, Abraham thought he was seeing behind the mask. There was a flash of hesitation in his expression as he added, “I was hoping to have someone on my side I could trust. Someone who wouldn’t be swayed by politics, and who was used to not only resisting us, but who could fight back and defend themselves if needed.” 

“I’m only taking you to the palace. There’s not much I can do.” Abraham scowled, realizing what he’d just said. He told himself he still wasn’t sure if he was going to see this through, but it felt like a lie even to him. 

Dorian grinned, “Of course, but, let’s say someone had a chance to have unprecedented access to the inner-workings of Aberon’s politics. There would be battle plans, numbers, perhaps even personal access to the Queen’s most trusted generals. I’ve heard some of them have quite the temper, and no one could blame you for a bit of self-defense. That could be very useful if things came to war. I’d say that, combined with a weaponized cure could completely destabilize the country.” He gave Abraham a long, meaningful look. “But alas, the only person who could have such access would be someone connected to the Queen’s inner court.” 

“What happened to not wanting to tell me because there are too many ears.” 

“No one has made any threats. I’m simply explaining a situation that could happen. It’s certainly not the outcome I want. Besides, the only one who’s mentioned treason is you.” His expression softened, giving Abraham another glance behind the mask, “Besides, your assistance is worth the risk. I don’t know if there’s anyone in my country I can trust not to betray me, let alone someone who had the skills for what might be needed.” 

Abraham nodded. “Ask me.” 

“Pardon?”

“If you want my help, then make your offer in simple, clear language. I’m not going to be the only one taking a risk.” 

“You mean you’ll do it?” 

“Do what?” Abraham gave him a cold look. 

Dorian straightened, “You’re better at this than I thought. Those are your terms?”

“That’s all I want.” 

Uncrossing his legs, Dorian shifted forward in his seat. If Abraham didn’t know better, he would have said there was excitement in the hitch of his breath. “Ser Abraham Radcliff,” he laid a hand over his heart, “I would like to humbly offer you a position in my household, that you might be by my side as a faithful companion, and if needed, defender. I ask that you keep your ears open, and report to me anything you learn. And, should the Queen refuse to listen to reason and pose a threat to you or your countrymen, I ask that you, on my direct order and explicit request, be her killer.” He gave Abraham an expectant look. 

Abraham took in the tension around his eyes, the way his words seem to hesitate on the last request. The knight picked up his drink, draining it as anxiety coiled in his chest. “I’ll think about it.”

Dorian’s express shifted from pleasant, to shock, to anger, his dark eyes filled with heat, “Excuse me.” 

“I said I’ll think about it.” Abraham repeated, “I need proof that you’re not just going to throw me to the wolves.” 

“You son of a-” 

“And,” Abraham said louder, “I swear to the gods that you’ll have my answer before we reach the border.” 

If Abraham had gotten a glimpse behind Dorian’s mask moments ago, he was getting a full look. There wasn fury on his face, an anger that he hadn’t thought him possible of. He leaned forward, elbows on the table as he looked into Dorian’s eyes, smiling sweetly, “Doesn’t feel good, does it?” He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand while Dorian stared at him, open-mouthed. “We should get going. We’ve already wasted too much time here.” 

Abraham stalked upstairs, leaving Dorian to collect himself. His heart was hammering in his chest, Dorian’s words bouncing around in his head. They still had nearly a month of travel before they reached the border. He had time before he had to decide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! 37k words and 86 pages in, and we're finally getting somewhere!
> 
> Feel free to drop me a comment. I love reading them and answer every one!
> 
> You can follow me at:  
> robin-redd on [Tumblr](https://robin-redd.tumblr.com)  
> @RobinRedd8 on[Twitter](https://twitter.com/RobinRedd8)  
> for story updates and to just generally hear about whatever I'm screaming about rn.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 17! 1813 words today!

The early winter chill made the air sharp as they wound their way northward. Dorian was glad for the change in weather. He’d never liked the balmy heat of the seaside, where even the night was sticky and hot. It was unbearable as a vampire, he could only imagine how it would have been if he’d been human. They were several days out from Orlet, and the closer they got to the border, the more and more scarce human towns became. 

There were a few with high walls and people with hard, suspicious gazes. They never stayed in them. Abraham didn’t want to risk either of them being recognized. He’d apparently spent some time in this area while hunting, and it was very likely that someone would see Dorian for what he was. They’d relied on few people having truly seen one of his kind to protect him until now, but when the threat of slaughter was a genuine fear, it wasn’t worth the risk. Almost as often, they passed a town that appeared to have been abandoned, with only the handful of people that Dorian could sense remaining. They skirted around these especially, and he was more than happy to. He didn’t want to traumatize these people further. More than once, Abraham took the time to empty out much of his rations just outside the towns. When Dorian had expressed concern about him not having enough for himself, he’d simply said that he’d be fine. 

Fine, it turned out, meant searching out caches of supplies that the knights left for each other. They were usually strapped to trees or hidden under a particularly large rock. Abraham never completely emptied these storehouses. He made sure to leave things in return for what he took, trading a small first aid pack for a pair of worn leather gloves. Dorian wondered how such a system worked. What would happen if a hapless traveler found one, or a knight decided to take everything for themselves. He hadn’t been able to hide his disgust when Abraham insisted that such a thing wouldn’t happen.

Their inability to stop in town meant they were forced to sleep outside, and it slowed their pace to a crawl. To Abraham’s credit, he tried to stop at spots he knew of. The first time it had happened, Dorian suspected he was trying to get out of the cold, or even delaying reaching the border so that he didn’t have to give him an answer. It had taken the first time they’d been unable to reach one, and Abraham had apologized, that Dorian realized he was doing it for his benefit. It had caught him off guard, that Abrham would not only remember, but would plan around his discomfort with having to bury himself. It left him with a strange, prickly feeling that he wasn’t sure he liked.

Things had been tense between them since they’d left Orlet. Abraham, for his part, seemed largely unaffected, but Dorian had clutched at the seed of anger in his chest, using it’s spark to drive off the anxiety that fluttered in his stomach. It was that, combined with another three weeks without feeding, that left him more than a little frustrated. They were little more than a week from the border if they pushed it, but it was barely midnight when Abraham insisted that they stop. He gestured to a small farmhouse in such a state of disrepair that Dorian was sure that a stiff breeze would send the whole thing crumbling. The fields around it were long-since overgrown, leaving no sign of what had once been grown here. 

“Why?” Dorian demanded, glaring at the hovel. “It doesn’t look any more comfortable than sleeping in the ground.” 

“There’s a cellar,” Abraham explained, already starting down the dirt path, “And the last cache didn’t have socks. You might not have to worry about losing toes, but I do.” 

Dorian growled in frustration, following after him while cursing his name. He knew he shouldn’t be so eager to get back to the palace after what he’d said. He was reasonably sure that the Queen couldn’t know what he’d discussed with Abraham, and he trusted his own mental shields that it was likely that she wouldn’t find out, but there was always a risk. He was already piecing together how he would handle things if she did find out. It would take time. It could work if he could get other members of her council on his side. If he could spin a narrative that made it seem like he was working not to betray the Queen, but to double cross the church and get enough people to believe him. There were too many ifs, and it left him sour.

Abraham was more paranoid the closer they got to the borders. Dorian stood by as he walked around the dilapidated farmhouse, touching entryways and carving wards into the soft wood. Magic fell like prayer from his lips. 

“Can you do that quieter?” Dorian snapped, “You’re giving me a headache.” It wasn’t strictly necessary to invoke his gods to offer protection. According to Marcus, all it took was a particularly strong belief that something was possible, and if the person’s will was strong enough, they could make it so. If enough people believed in something, it only strengthened its power.

“I’m almost finished,” Abraham shot back. They hadn’t spoken much in the days that dragged by. Abraham had given no indication which way he was leaning on his offer. Dorian had only just resisted the urge to peek into his mind. He didn’t need to hear his thoughts to know he was conflicted.

Dorian gritted his teeth. Going to poke around the rest of the house. It was small, two rooms and a door that led down to the cellar. The floor was badly splintered, and filled with holes that let him see the dark, damp place he’d be spending his day. There was little furniture left in the home, likely pilfered by the town nearby. What was left was broken and stacked in a corner. The only thing intact was the woodstove, too large and heavy to reasonably be moved.

“You do understand that if someone really wanted in, your wards wouldn’t stop them.” He said, stomping back to Abraham. “This is pointless.” 

“You know, I never thought you were the type to throw a tantrum.” 

“I am not throwing a tantrum.” 

“You are.” Abraham wiped his hands on his pants, going to the woodstove. He took his time building a fire in it, pressing himself as close to the warmth as he dared. “You have been since we left Orlet. Is this because I didn’t give you the answer you wanted? Excuse me if I’m not ready to betray everything I stand for to be your pet assassin.” 

Dorian bit his tongue hard. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t push. He knew that if he wanted Abraham’s help, he would need to let him come to the decision on his own. He’d already pushed him too hard once, and if it hadn’t been for Marcus stepping in, it was likely Abraham wouldn’t be here at all. They could be using this time on the road for teaching. He needed to hone the magic he already had so that no one could rip secrets from him and perhaps most importantly, learn the ways of the Red Queen’s court. Instead, they were here in simmering silence, and it was driving Dorian insane. 

“You’re really not helping your case,” Abraham said. He was sitting on the thin blanket he packed with him. It wouldn’t do much to protect him from the cold. 

“And how do you propose I do that?” Dorian snipped. He was getting irritable. He hadn’t been able to master his pride enough to ask Marcus for whatever it was he substituted for blood, and he regretted it.

Abrhaam had an infuriating habit of not saying anything if he didn’t hand an answer, and Dorian sighed. He watched him pull some dried meat from a pouch, chewing thoughtfully. “Marcus said-”

Dorian growled in frustration, “Can we please not talk about what my brother may or may not have said. I understand, he told you what he thinks of me. I’m sure it’s confirmed everything you already suspected.” 

He wasn’t expecting Abraham’s expression to soften in the face of his anger. “Do you really think he has that low of an opinion of you?” 

“I know he does. Half of what he told you was lies borne from his own misinterpretation of my intent.” 

“He said that you’ve changed, that you used to have… a temper.” 

Dorian leaned against the crumbling counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s the word he used? A temper?” 

“Not in so few words. You used to hate humans. You saw them as… playthings.” 

“Is this really what you want to ask me? You’ve barely said a word since we left Orlet, and  _ that’s  _ what you’re curious about?” He didn’t want to talk about it. It had been a long time since he’d held those views, nearly seventy long years. He wanted it to stay in the past. Of course it would be the only thing his brother remembered of him. “How do you know I don’t still feel that way?” 

“I’m just trying to understand.” Abraham looked hurt, and Dorian had to focus not to hear his thoughts.

Dorian sighed, pressing his fingers to his eyes, “Is it so hard to believe that I might regret some of the things I did? What if I just want to make amends?” 

“You haven’t acted like you do.” Abraham countered, “Ever since I met you, you’ve done nothing but try to make me uncomfortable… right up until I didn’t give you the answer you wanted, and now you refuse to speak to me.” 

“And how would you have me prove it to you? Perhaps some self-flagellation? I could confess all my deepest sins to you on my knees and you could anoint my head and tell me that the gods forgive me for my sins.” His smile sharpened. “Actually, I vote for that option. Who knows, I might even teach you a thing or two about worship” 

Abraham was silent again, twirling a small twig between his fingers. “You could start by telling me about yourself, maybe treat me like a friend instead of a tool.” 

Dorian stared at him for a moment, his chest squeezing. “That’s all, is it? You would never know if I’m lying.” Abraham gave him a long, meaningful look. Dorian hesitated for a moment before making a decision. He crossed the room, tucking his feet under him as he took up a spot on the floor that looked less likely to cave in under him. “What do you want to know?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I'm so surprised by the reception this has gotten, even if it is relatively small. It makes me happy to know that people are reading and sticking with it!
> 
> Feel free to drop me a comment. I love reading them and answer every one!
> 
> You can follow me at:  
> robin-redd on [Tumblr](https://robin-redd.tumblr.com)  
> @RobinRedd8 on[Twitter](https://twitter.com/RobinRedd8)  
> for story updates and to just generally hear about whatever I'm screaming about rn.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 18!! A bit shorter today with 1455 words

“I don’t know.” Abraham said, and Dorian rolled his eyes. Had he really not thought that far ahead? “Normal things, I suppose. Where are you from?” 

Dorian frowned, looking at his companion. The darkness that shrouded them did nothing to hide Abraham’s expression. Up close he looked tired. He trembled every few seconds, hunched in on himself. His beard had gotten thick, his hair no longer had that clean, shaved look it usually did. Dorian tipped his head against the wall. “Do you mean where I live or where I grew up?” 

“Both?” 

“Well, I have an estate outside of Clermont… that’s about a week’s travel from the capitol. It’s nothing extravagant, but it was a gift. I didn’t visit it often because I have my rooms at the palace,” Dorian frowned. ‘Had’ was perhaps more accurate, but he wasn’t ready to face what it would mean if he didn’t have those rooms anymore. “In the royal wing, of course. Close to her Highness.” 

Dorian glanced towards Abraham, expecting to see that he had impressed him. Instead his lips were pressed together in a small frown, brow furrowed as if he were trying to remember something. “And before that?” 

“You wouldn’t know it.” Dorian shook his head, “A small village on the northern coast. Rocky beaches, sharp cliffs. Very cold.” He smiled when Abraham shivered. “Not a fan?” 

“No.” Abraham shifted closer to the stove. “I don’t like the cold.” 

“And yet you accepted a position that would have you traveling into cold climates to kill people. Of course, I can see the logic in that.” 

“We don’t exactly get to choose where we’re posted.” Abraham grimaced, “Though I did request that I be sent to the border. I wanted to help.” 

“How self-sacrificing.” Dorian’s tone bordered on mockery, but that struck a chord in him. “You said you’re from… Oakwood?” 

“I was… I don’t remember it very well. I think it’s safer to say that I grew up in Turncliff. At an orphanage there.” 

Dorian grimaced. Even he had heard about Oakwood. The town had been quite large, almost a city that sat in a strip of land that both sides claimed. He’d heard about the bloodbath second hand. There were rumors that a political rival had taken up refuge there, or that it was the seat of a rebellion that was working to undermine the Crown. He didn’t know if the Queen had ordered the village destroyed or if she’d just allowed it to happen but it had been her soldiers that had attacked the town. It was one of the largest settlements to be destroyed and it had set the spark for the skermishes that were happening now. He didn’t know how bad it had been, but there had been few survivors. It had sat with him, gnawing at him as he wondered if he’d been there, could he have convinced her to stop it. Would he be able to quell her rage and make her see reason. It hadn’t been the deciding factor for him returning home, but it was one of them.

“Did you like it?” Dorian asked, his expression grim. Abraham was quiet, staring at something Dorian couldn’t see. “Being raised by the church I mean, not the… you know.”

“I liked it well enough. They educated me, I believed in their teachings. It helped me deal with the nightmares.” He looked down at his hands, “I wanted to be like the people that saved me. I don’t remember much about that night, but I remember that.” 

Dorian watched him shiver again, clicking his tongue. He shrugged off his cloak and passed it to him. “It might be a bit small on you, but one of us has to worry about losing toes.” 

Abraham frowned at it but took it carefully. Dorian knew it would be cool. His own temperature barely got to lukewarm unless he’d fed, and it wasn’t as if the cold could kill him. “Thank you.” He wasn’t sure what else to say. After all, it was Abraham that had started this line of questioning. “Do you remember what it was like when your village-”

“I was much older than you were when it happened.” Something old rattled around in his chest. He didn’t like thinking about his home, of his life before he’d come to the capitol. “So yes.” Abraham was watching him expectantly. “There’s not much to say about it. It wasn’t quite as bad as what happened in Oakwood. It was just a few lone hunters and not an army.” Dorian waved his hand dismissively even as it felt like fingers were being pressed into a scar. “Did you choose to be a Knight?” 

Abraham blinked at him, shaking his head, “I thought about just becoming a priest, but I don’t exactly look like the comforting type.” he gestured to himself, his large frame, thick beard and calloused hands, “And I was good with a sword. I liked it… I still like it.” 

“You don’t sound sure.” And he didn’t, there was something in his voice, a thread that Dorian wanted to latch onto and pull, to see what unravelled. 

“Did you want to be a vampire?” Abraham countered, “An advisor?” 

“I didn’t not want to.” Dorian said simply. “I knew that if I wanted more from life than just emptying chamber pots, if that meant becoming a vampire then that’s what I would do.” His back prickled. It sounded far more simple than it had been, “So I put myself in a position where people would notice me.” He ran a palm over his thigh, focusing on the feeling. Abraham was watching him. “I’m sorry if that’s not the answer you wanted. It wasn’t terribly romantic or heroic.” 

“With your music?” 

Dorian froze, staring at him, “Pardon?”

“Your music. I heard you playing in Orlet. Through the floor, but you didn’t seem to… enjoy it. You’re very talented. I mean I don’t know much about music, but…” He trailed off.

Dorian shrugged, the prickling feeling became stronger. “My music certainly helped. I learned to play after I came to the palace. Someone thought I would look nice, wielding a violin, I think.” He swallowed, “It helped. I enjoyed it.” 

Abraham was frowning at him. “Did I say something wrong?” 

“No! No, it’s just… music isn’t something I do much anymore.” Dorian cocked his head, “I didn’t realize you heard me. I thought you’d left before the show began.” 

“I heard it through the floor,” Abraham admitted, “And before that, when you almost ripped my throat out, you were playing, weren’t you?” 

Dorian laughed, shaking his head, “I would hardly call that ripping your throat out. That was barely more than a paper cut.”

“It was not!” Abraham protested. Dorian was relieved to see that there wasn’t anger in his voice. “I almost bled out.” 

“You were fine.” he shot back. He leaned closer, and whatever Abraham saw in his face made him tense, “I’m more than happy to demonstrate the difference.” 

“Stop.” Abraham scooted away from him, and Dorian grinned.

“Is that a no then?” 

“Dorian.” 

There was the exasperation he expected. He settled back into his spot. His limbs felt heavy, skin tingling with the memory of what it had been like to be in Abraham’s lap, of that moment where he’d felt him hard and desperate against him. He’d replayed the sound of Abraham’s moan just before he’d pressed him back onto the bed. It brushed against the older sensation of fingers slick with blood, the sound of a deeper voice crying out in agony. Dorian rubbed his hand roughly against his pants. “Well, all this talk of blood is making me thirsty, so unless you truly want a demonstration, it’s getting late and I should prepare for bed.” he glanced up, as if he could see the sky through the roof. He needed some distance between them.

“One more thing.” Abraham said when Dorian stood with practiced ease.

“Go ahead.” 

“You said the Queen listens to your council.” 

“She does.” He didn’t think he liked where this was going.

“Why?” 

Dorian frowned down at him. “Because I’m very good at what I do.” 

“Manipulating, you mean.” 

“Gathering information, playing the game, getting people to work together or against their own self interests.” 

“And is that what you’re trying to do to me?”

Dorian didn’t have an answer for him. Abraham sighed, shrugging off the borrowed cloak. He shook his head, “Keep it. You need it far more than I do.” Abraham looked like he wanted to say more, but Dorian sighed, “That’s enough for now. Good night.” He made his way downstairs, and told himself that he wasn’t fleeing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! Look at them having a conversation without anyone getting angry. I think there might have even been some genuine humor in there! 
> 
> Sorry for the shorter chapter, I had my HRT appointment today so it's hard to focus on anything else! Ya boy's getting T in a few days, so if this story suddenly becomes ~80% more horny it's because puberty 2 is happening
> 
> Feel free to drop me a comment. I love reading them and answer every one!
> 
> You can follow me at:  
> robin-redd on [Tumblr](https://robin-redd.tumblr.com)  
> @RobinRedd8 on[Twitter](https://twitter.com/RobinRedd8)  
> for story updates and to just generally hear about whatever I'm screaming about rn.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 19! 2660 words!

Abraham woke the following afternoon cold and exhausted. He hadn’t slept well once the fire had burned down. A chill seeped into his bones, making his joints feel stiff and setting his teeth to chattering. He started a fire in the woodstove after a quick glance outside. Dread settled in his stomach like steel when he saw large, fat snowflakes falling from the sky. It had already piled up, nearly a foot by the door, and the sky was thick with grey clouds. 

He watched helpless as it continued to fall. He didn’t want to risk getting caught out in a storm, and there was no way it would let up by nightfall. Abraham spent the day caring for the horses. He’d put them up in the small barn on the property, though there wasn’t much for them to eat. He knew better than to try to travel with them in this kind of storm, and unless Dorian wanted to walk the rest of the way to Aberon, they would have to wait for it to let up.

There wasn’t much to do after ensuring that the horses were okay. Abraham kept a small fire going as he checked their equipment and sorted through supplies. By the time night fell, the farm was covered in a thick layer of white, even his footsteps had been covered up. Abraham was huddled by the fire, carefully checking over his weapons when the door to the cellar opened. 

Abraham didn’t know how Dorian always managed to look so immaculate, even after weeks of hard travel. His hair was a little duller, having not been washed, but his clothes were spotless, save for his boots. He felt those dark eyes move over him to the window by his shoulder. 

“Please tell me that isn’t snow.” Dorian said by way of greeting. His boots creaked on the floor as he crossed the room, a scowl on his face. 

“It had already started by the time I woke.” Abraham said, rising from his spot by the fire to follow him to the window. He still had Dorian’s cloak draped over his shoulders as well as his own. For the first time, he envied the vampire for his indifference to the cold. “I don’t think we’re going anywhere until it lets up unless you want to leave the horses behind.” 

Dorian cursed, drumming his fingers on the windowpane. “I suppose we don’t have a choice.” 

Abraham was getting better at reading him. He could see the stress in the slant of his lips, in the way his hands nails scraped against the soft would. Hecouldn’t explain exactly what had changed over the past few weeks. Maybe it was that he’d gotten a real look at the man he was traveling with - though it was just as likely that it was because he had the upper hand. Dorian was waiting for him to decide if he was going to remain at the palace with him. 

Abraham turned away, going back to sorting through supplies. He didn’t _know_ what he was going to do. It would have been easy if he just needed to assassinate the Queen. He would do that without question. He would _pay_ someone to let him do it if he thought it might destabilize Aberon. He held no love for the country or its people, but what Dorian was asking him to do went much further. He didn’t know if he could keep the act. It was one thing to take down a single vampire while on the border, but to infiltrate the palace heh would need Dorian. If the night with Marcus had been any indication of what to expect, he didn’t know if he was capable of pulling such a thing off. He didn’t even know if he could _trust_ Dorian. Even if he took the throne, there was no reason to believe that he would be any better.

Glancing up, Abraham found Dorian leaning against the counter where he’d been the night before. His gaze was distant and focused on a spot on the wall. His lips pulled down in a small frown. Abraham shook his head and went back to work repacking his bag. He had enough food for at least a week, thanks to the cache he’d found tucked under the floorboards. It had had slightly warmer clothes as well, but nothing in his size. 

Abraham went about trying to keep himself busy lighting a few candles so that they could have at least a little light. Dorian, all the while, didn’t move. “Aren’t you bored?” He asked, “I have a book or two if you’d like.” 

“I would rather watch paint dry than read a book of prayers.” Dorian replied, but there was no bite to his words. “And no, I’m fine. It takes quite a bit to bore me.” 

Abraham lifted an eyebrow. “I would have assumed the opposite, considering you’re used to court life.” 

Something passed over his face too quick for Abraham to decipher. “You would assume wrong.” 

Abraham lapsed into silence again, looking around the room as if he could figure out something to do. He sighed, a tight knot of anxiety in his gut. The feeling only grew as he tried to keep himself busy, his thoughts turning to Dorian’s proposal no matter how hard he tried to focus on something else. After a third failed attempt at meditation, Abraham gritted his teeth.

“Let’s say I do decide to help you,” he snapped.

Dorian blinked slowly at him. The outburst was no doubt sudden. “Let’s say you do.” he began slowly. 

“What _exactly_ would it entail. I don’t think you can just pass me off as some human that followed you home like a lost puppy.” 

“I’m still trying to figure that out.” Dorian admitted, “I don’t suppose you’ll go for the disgraced knight angle.” When Abraham shook his head, he sighed, “I thought not. I would rather not do that one either. It’s just as likely to get you strung up by your intestines as it is to keep you by my side.” Dorian pressed a finger to his lips, “Whatever we decide, you’ll be expected to behave with a certain level of grace.” 

“What do you mean?”

Dorian lifted an eyebrow, “Well… you will be seen as an extension of myself. Anything you do will reflect on me.” 

Abraham frowned, “So I’d have to act like I did when you were with Marcus?” He could still feel the press of Dorian’s boot on his back. He told himself that it didn’t make his stomach tighten when he thought about it. It had been unpleasant, nothing more.

“You will have to act _better_ than when we met my brother. You will be expected to conduct yourself in a manner deserving of a member of the Queen’s inner circle.” 

Abraham swallowed, “So teach me.” Dorian’s eyebrows shot up, his lips parting in shock, “This isn’t a yes,” Abraham amended, watching his face smooth over, “But give me an idea of what would happen if I _do_ say yes.” Maybe if he knew, it would smooth the anxiety in his stomach. 

Dorian seemed to think for a moment, his expression blank. He held up his finger when Abraham opened his mouth to ask him again, “I’m trying to think of where to start.” The silence stretched between them for so long that Abraham was considering letting it drop. 

“How much do you know about Alberon’s politics?” 

“Not much.” Abraham admitted, “I know a few of the more common houses. I know a little about the Queen, but… I suspect much of what I know is rumor.” 

“Almost certainly…” Dorian nodded, seeming to consider what was next. “I think that’s as good a place as any. Do you have paper?”

Abraham got the journal he carried from his things, tearing out a handful of pages and passing them to Dorian. For the next few hours, Dorian sat with him by the fire, outlining complex family trees, complete with “birth” families - or those who were related by genetics, “blood” families - those who were from the same vampiric line, and their relationships with each other. Abraham focused as best he could, watching the web unfold. It was made more dizzying where political alliances were drawn. There seemed to be three distinct factions. Those who were loyal to the crown were the oldest of the lines, and had, in Dorian’s words, forgotten what it was to be human. They often petitioned for them to challenge Tinian’s grip on the world and invade. The ones that wanted to make peace were often younger, or were like Marcus and had clung to their spark of humanity. 

After a while, Dorian got up, using his hands to explain. It made him look animated, his dark hair loose and trailing behind him, glowing in the dim light. He paced across the room like he was giving a lecture. Abraham was struck by him. He watched the way he moved, a confident stride, each step purposeful. He hadn’t seen him like this before. He hadn’t thought him capable of being anything but somewhat cold. Abraham stood, stretching his legs. “So where do I come in… Or I guess humans in general.”

“There’s a delicate balance when it comes to playing your part” Dorian began slowly. “On one hand, you’re expected to be an extension of your master’s household. Not everyone has a master, in fact most don’t and they live much the same lives that they live in Tinian, just with a vampire as their lord. If you do, you’re a steward, of sorts. You tend to them, dress them, bathe them, keep their notes during meetings if asked.” His lips curled into a smile, that made Abraham’s stomach lurch, “On the other, you’re supposed to be something pretty to look at, a bit of entertainment for immortals who have far too much time on their hands.” 

“I thought it was about feeding and…” his cheeks felt warm, “companionship.” 

“That is part of it,” Dorian agreed, “Though most people in that position aren’t used for day-to-day meals. It would be like opening a fine bottle of champagne for no reason. As for sex,” He gave Abraham a look that made him feel like he was being scolded, “Not everyone has your hangups. There are many that not only willingly join their masters in their beds, but do so eagerly.” 

“I don’t want that.” The words tasted stale on his mouth, and thought of the leather-bound book he’d carried from Orlet. They were just stories, that anything approximating the real thing was off the table.

“I know,” Abraham’s surprise must have shown on his face, “But we will be expected to keep up… appearances. Regardless of what does or doesn’t happen behind closed doors, people will expect you to have a certain level of comfort with my touch. Here, let me show you.” 

Abraham felt anger rising in his chest, but he caught himself. He’d asked Dorian to tell him about this. 

“Come here.” The vampire’s voice was soft, but it held the weight of an order. Abraham stood rooted in his spot. Dorian said nothing more, but he watched him, the flickering light making his eyes sparkle with promise. The knot of anxiety tightened again, squeezing around his lungs. After several minutes, he stepped forward. “ _Good._ ” Dorian praised, “A little closer please. I can’t be expected to come to you.” Another step and he stood just in arms reach.

“Now…” Dorian frowned, “I promise not to touch you anywhere that would disrespect your vows.”

“Like those matter to you.” Abraham couldn’t help himself. The discomfort was thick enough to choke him.

“It does.” There was a thread of something genuine in his voice, “Despite what you must think of me, I do want you to be able to return to your life when all of this is said and done. I will not do anything to get you smited,” A dangerous smile curled at his lips, “Unless of course you ask me to.” Dorian’s laugher was a harsh, scraping sound when Abraham vehemently shook his head, “I thought not. So, most of the time the contact you will have with me will be simple. You’ll either be standing behind me, in which case I may touch your arm,” cool fingers gripped just above his elbow, “Or your shoulder,” they swept upwards, squeezing gently through the layers of clothing, “Or your chest.” 

Dorian stepped forward, into his personal space, close enough that their bodies nearly pressed together. He looked down at him, seeing something warm in his eyes as his palm slanted downwards. Abraham stepped back quickly, his heart racing. The vampire simply lifted his eyebrow again and waited. “We don’t have to do this, if it’s too much for you.” 

Abraham couldn’t tell if it was a bluff, or if Dorian truly didn’t care one way or another. He swallowed hard as he stepped close again. “I don’t like this.” 

“Noted,” Dorian replied. He lifted his hand, resting it on Abraham’s arm again, “But people will expect that you are comfortable enough with me that I am allowed to touch when I want. I won’t abuse that,” His hand moved upwards again, tracing along his arm. “It will be strange if you deny my touch at all.” 

Abraham stood stock still as Dorian took his time. He let his palm slide across his shoulders and down his other arm. Through the layers of his clothes, he couldn’t feel his touch, but it did nothing to lessen the intimacy of it. “What else?” He asked, his voice strained. He kept waiting for his hands to dip lower, or to find a bit of exposed skin, but Dorian never did.

“In public this is the most that will be expected while you’re standing.” 

“And if I’m not?” 

Dorian clicked his tongue, “It depends. Oftentimes while I’m in meetings, I would prefer if you sat at my feet, keeping and drawing no attention to yourself while you watch and listen for anything that I might miss” He didn’t stop touching him, and Abraham was forced to train his gaze ahead. Looking down at Dorian only made him want to squirm, his skin too tight. 

“I don’t understand.” Abraham said, Dorian brushed the backs of his fingers up his arm, stopping just before he touched his face.

“It can be difficult to catch everything when I’m trying to focus on responding. I like having someone I can trust who can watch the conversation without that pressure.” 

“And I have to do that at your feet?” 

“I would prefer it. It draws less attention than a hulking man glaring from behind my chair,” He grinned, “Though that has its place to.” Dorian dropped his hands, and stepped back, and Abraham’s stomach unclenched. The lack of contact made him feel strangely hollow, and he shoved that thought down, watching as Dorian went to lean against the counter again. “That’s enough for now. Let’s run through the houses. I want you to memorize them before I start telling you about how you should act around each one.” 

And so it went like that, Dorian throwing out houses, and encouraging Abraham to repeat it back along with significant members and their relationships. By the end of the night, his head felt heavy, this throat tight from how much speaking they’d done. It was nearly dawn when Dorian called a stop to the lesson, ordering Abraham to keep working to memorize important figures when he woke in the afternoon. Before he’d gone to bed, the vampire stepped forward. Giving Abraham a long, meaningful look, he reached up to trail the backs of his fingers over his cheek. “Goodnight.”

The touch was unexpected. Abraham held his breath, the skin of his cheek tingling with the sensation long after Dorian had already left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A late chapter tonight, but I had an early shift at work... and then more work when I got home! Thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Like seriously, thank you all for reading. I'm so surprised that people are actually interested in this. I was expecting to get maybe 50 hits and 25 of them would be from my partner who was reading to support me. You guys are awesome!
> 
> You can follow me at:  
> robin-redd on [Tumblr](https://robin-redd.tumblr.com)  
> @RobinRedd8 on[Twitter](https://twitter.com/RobinRedd8)  
> for story updates and to just generally hear about whatever I'm screaming about rn.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 20! 1995 words!

Abraham woke again cold and tired. He laid huddled under a heavy blanket left behind by another traveler, staring up through the cold winter light as he tried to collect himself. The night before left him feeling unsettled. Dorian made it all seem so easy, like this wasn’t a dangerous path to go down. He could still feel his final touch, somehow more intimate than anything they’d done. He caught himself rubbing his cheek as he went about his day. 

He was thinking of Dorian as he shoveled snow from the front door. He ran through the complex web of nobility as he tended the horses. Even as he sank into prayer, starting a small fire and filling a shallow bowl, he found it difficult to focus. His connection to the divine had returned with a bit of time, but the temporary loss still felt like something hollow in his chest. He wondered not for the first time what he could lose if he and Dorian played this game. 

The ghost of his touch lingered, and Abraham found himself leaning forward as he heard footsteps on the stairs.

Dorian looked pale in the dim glow from the fire. Even through the warm light, Abraham could see the way his lips were pursed, dark circles under his eyes. “Evening.” Dorian said, “I see we’re still stuck here.” 

“Sadly I have no control over the weather.” Abraham replied. He was sitting by the fire, looking over the notes Dorian had left him. 

“I see you’ve been studying.” the vampire took up what was becoming his spot by the fire. He picked up one of the pieces of paper, scanning the notes Abraham had added. He’d added the rumors he knew about the main houses, hoping it would help him remember.

“A little…” Abraham lied, looking down at the stack of papers. “It’s good information to have, even if I don’t use it.”

“Of course,” Dorian didn’t seem convinced, he held out his hands for his notes. “Why don’t we review then.” For the next several minutes, Dorian would offer a name or describe a crest, and Abraham would parrot back information he knew about them. Every time he got one right, Dorian would smile and touch him. The contact was less of a shock than it had been yesterday. Each touch sent a shock through him, making it hard to sit still. Dorian never touched his bare skin, but he thought he could feel it, those fingers made colder by the weather, tracing up his arm, resting on the back of his hand. His stomach felt tight, his face warm despite the chill.

He was able to recall several, but he’d always been good at this sort of thing. When he’d been in training, he’d been very good at memorizing and identifying plants or understanding battle tactics. He could recite most of his prayer book by heart, and knew the names and beliefs of saints and philosophers as far back as the church’s founding. It wasn’t so different, really. 

The thought gave him pause. Maybe all of this really wasn’t so different from his training. It was all the same act, the same repetitive motions drilled into him until he could do them without thinking. Abraham slumped back against the wall.

Dorian cocked his head. He was watching him, frowning. 

“Yes?”

“Your posture is atrocious.” 

Abraham choked on his laughter, looking at how Dorian folded in on himself. “ _ My _ posture is atrocious?” 

“Yes. I would never make the mistake of calling you graceless, I practiced a bit of fencing when I was human, I know how much coordination it takes to wield a sword, but when you’re just sitting there there’s no art to it.” 

“Let’s pretend I understand what you’re talking about.” Abraham offered. “I’m sitting, it doesn’t have to be artful.”

“In the prescience of nobility it does.” Abraham wanted to laugh again, but Dorian’s serious expression made him pause. 

“Oh, I hadn’t realized I was in the company of a prince,” Abraham rolled his eyes. “Is how I sit really going to matter that much? I thought it was fine if I looked a bit green.”

“Are you still interested in learning?” Dorian asked.

Abraham ground his teeth in exasperation, but he nodded. It wasn’t as if they had anything better to do. It had already been a dreadfully slow day, and he’d rather the night not drag as well.

“Good, stand up.” Dorian said, climbing to his own feet. Abraham slowly pulled himself up, carefully setting the papers aside.

“I don’t see how this matters.” 

“When your role is to appear pretty and docile, it does.” Dorian replied. “Now, kneel.” 

“You  _ just _ asked me to stand up.” Abraham protested. 

“And now I’m asking you to kneel. If you’re going to do this, I need you to get better at listening.” 

Abraham’s jaw clenched, and he started to lower himself, bracing his hand on the wall. He didn’t get halfway down before Dorian sighed.

“Wrong.” 

“What do you mean wrong?” Abraham demanded. He climbed off his knees, meeting Dorian’s appraising gaze. 

“I mean it’s wrong. You’re not prostrating yourself at an altar. This is supposed to be as much about seduction as it is about submission.” 

Abraham scowled at him. He wasn’t trying to seduce him. “What do you  _ mean _ ?” 

Dorian ran his tongue over his teeth, lips pressed together in a thin line. “Watch.” His movements were careful, precise as he squatted down, his palms pressed flat to his thighs. In the same movement he leaned down, knees pressing gently to the cold floor before finally straightening his toes behind him. His hands never left his thighs the whole time. 

Abraham’s mouth went dry. Dorian’s hair fell over one shoulder as he bowed his head forward. The other side was warmed by the fire, his impossibly dark eyes lifting to look up at him through dark lashes. He hadn’t understood what Dorian had meant about seduction, but his heart was racing. Dorian was speaking, his voice soft and intimate. “When you’re playing your part, you’re trying to appeal to those around you.” 

Abraham was sure he didn’t look like that. Dorian looked up at him like he put the moon in the sky, his lips parted slightly, his eyes molten with desire. His aristocratic features were highlighted, and he looked at Abraham with such open need that he forgot how to breathe. He wanted to reach out and touch him. Dorian was close enough that he could brush his hair from his face and feel that cool, perfect skin under his fingertips. A flash of heat settled in his stomach, and Abraham bit the inside of his cheek.

He blinked and it was gone, replaced by a knowing smirk. “Getting up is a bit more difficult.” Dorian demonstrated rising on his knees, tucking his feet under him, and standing with one fluid movement. Abraham was still staring, sweat prickling on the back of his neck as he watched him. After spending the night being aware of the contact between them, he felt disoriented. “You try.” Dorian said, take a careful step forward. When Abraham didn’t move, he reached out, pressing a hand to his shoulder. His voice was filled with a dark promise. “Down.” 

“I don’t know if I can.” Abraham’s voice was strained. He cleared his throat and shrugged Dorian’s hand off of him. 

“ _ Try _ .” 

Abraham nodded, his mind swirling into something warm and blank. He could feel Dorian’s eyes on him as he squatted down, unable to keep his palms on his thighs as he lifted them for balance. He wobbled slightly but managed to tip forward onto his knees. He stared at the floor ahead of him, watching as Dorian’s boots came into view. He couldn’t bring himself to look up, a small shocked sound coming from him when a hand rested on his head. 

“Better. Not perfect, but better.” Abraham didn’t know why he felt so tense. Dorian’s fingers worked through his tangled hair. He hadn’t realized how long it had gotten until he was touching it, combing through the waves. He wanted to lean away. The point of contact shifted, sliding down the back of his neck as Dorian bowed over him. He gripped the hair at the base of his head, gently pulling to encourage his head backwards. “Look up at me, Abraham.” 

He looked up. Dorian’s eyes widened at whatever he saw in his face. His head was buzzing. He needed to stop this, to master whatever he was feeling but everything felt far away. Dorian stepped closer, dragging nails along the curve of his jaw. Abraham closed his throat around the sound of surprise as a shiver moved down his spine. The vampire’s expression was unreadable. The heat had returned, but there was also surprise and confusion. A firm, gentle grip curled around his chin, tipping his head upwards. 

“Look at you…” Dorian murmured, “Have you really never done this before? You’re a natural.” 

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” Abraham gasped. He felt like something in him was building, his skin tight and itchy. 

Dorian traced a nail along his chin, moving upwards teasing along his bottom lip. “Do you want to stop?” 

Abraham froze, caught between shaking his head and the yes that danced on his tongue. He pressed his lips together, almost kissing the finger there. He should say yes, he should stop this, but the way Dorian looked at him, like he was seeing him for the first time. “I don’t know.” He admitted honestly. He hated how desperate he sounded. “I don’t know what’s wrong.” 

“Nothing is wrong. You’ve done nothing wrong.” Dorian said gently, but he let him go, taking a step back. Abraham felt cold without the touch, his skin burning, “But that’s enough. Let’s see if you can get back up.” 

Abraham looked up at him.  _ Had  _ he done something wrong? Dorian didn’t look angry, but he was frowning, running his thumb over the tips of his fingers. Abraham’s legs felt unsteady as he tried to roll to his feet like Dorian had, but his limbs wouldn’t cooperate and it was harder than he made it look. 

“I’m-”

“Don’t apologize.” Dorian cut him off, his expression going back to its usual neutral smile, “It was sloppy but effective. With some practice I think you’ll be as good as anyone in court.” It felt like there was suddenly a gulf between them. Dorian was still talking, but Abraham found it hard to focus. His mind was still scattered, and he fought the urge to touch the back of his neck and trace the cool path Dorian had on his skin. 

“Are you all right?” Dorian asked, breaking through his scattered thoughts. 

“I don’t know.” Abraham repeated, “I… feel dizzy?” 

Dorian laughed, “If I didn’t know better, I’d assume you enjoyed it.” His smile faded at Abraham’s expression, “You did enjoy it, and that’s okay. It makes it easier.” 

“Easier… right.” Abraham leaned his head back against the wall. He told himself that he didn’t want Dorian’s touch, that he didn’t want to reach across the space between them. “You said that it’s hard for you to get bored.” he said, searching for something to talk about that wasn’t what they’d just done.

“I did? Oh… right yesterday. It is.” 

“Is it because you were…” He struggled for the words.

“A lot of your duties as someone’s pet are standing there and looking pretty. You find ways to keep your mind occupied.” 

“Oh…” Abraham wanted to ask more. He hadn’t realized exactly what it meant that Dorian had risen through the ranks of the palace, that he had gone from servant to entertainer, to vampire. 

“Yes, ‘oh.’ Now, let’s try to focus. Who is the eldest child of House Dearilas.” And they were off again, talking through the night about the politics of Aberon’s court until Abraham’s throat was sore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! We're actually getting really close to 50k. Don't worry, I plan to continue, but I might put a couple days between chapters and make them longer rather than quicker. We'll see! If y'all like the way this is now, I'm more than willing to keep doing it.
> 
> You can follow me at:  
> robin-redd on [Tumblr](https://robin-redd.tumblr.com)  
> @RobinRedd8 on[Twitter](https://twitter.com/RobinRedd8)  
> for story updates and to just generally hear about whatever I'm screaming about rn.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 21! 2234 words toady!

The next three days were spent much the same as the last. Abraham did what he could to keep himself busy. He studied the information Dorian gave to him. After the second night when he was able to answer all of his questions correctly, Dorian had started teaching him about his personal relationship to many of them. It only complicated the political web further. He had enemies, allies, people who would expect to be insulted, and those who Abraham would have to show nothing but the most absolute deference to. 

These lessons included how to move in a way that was both comfortable, submissive, and perhaps most importantly attractive. Abraham struggled to learn to sit, stand, and walk in a way that conveyed whatever level of respect Dorian expected of him. 

“Prince Victor?” 

Abraham frowned, “Eldest son of the Red Queen. We… hate him?” 

“Of course not,” Dorian said, but his smile said otherwise, “He’s our Queen’s first child. He deserves all of the respect that position affords him… but no one could blame you if you forgot decorum. You are, after all, an unbroken beast.” 

Abraham grinned in return, “So tell him to fuck off to his face, and you can beg for forgiveness later.” 

Dorian’s laughter echoed around the empty farmhouse, “Oh gods, I wish you would. I would  _ pay _ you. I would get on my knees and suck your dick in the throne room if you told him that too his face.” 

Abraham flushed, but said nothing in protest. He touched the pump of his holy symbol under his clothes to ground himself. Dorian’s hand was resting on his knee. To anyone else, it might have been an invitation, Abraham still felt a bit of apprehension at him touching him, but Dorian never did anything other than rest his hand there, his thumb drawing idle circles. Dorian had been touching him a lot since he’d begun these “lessons.” Abraham didn’t know if he would ever get used to it, but he hadn’t done anything to make him protest. And… he was honest enough with himself to think that it was almost since. He didn’t think he could remember the last time someone had touched him so easily. The thought dragged through his chest in a way he couldn’t explain, and he was more than willing to let Dorian continue so long as he kept to his word. 

He spent much of his days in prayer, begging for guidance. He ran drills, stepping through the movements as he tried to empty his mind of anything that wasn’t swordwork and devotion. He whispered his prayers into the cold air, pushing with every fiber of his being that the Twins might hear him. Thoughts of Dorian plagued him, the memory of his touch sending heat spiraling into his stomach. In the early hours of the day, when all was still and quiet, he wondered if he might be in over his head. The night before, Dorian had stood close to him, had carded his fingers through Abraham’s hair while he’d knelt at his feet. His praise rang sweet in his ears.  _ Good… _ Dorian had murmured,  _ very good. You’re doing much better than I expected. _ And when that hand had cupped his chin, it had taken every ounce of self control not to turn his face into the touch, not to kiss the palm, and-

He faltered, foot slipping on a spot where the floor bowed. He ran a hand over his face, his eyes burning with exhaustion. Sleep had been scarce since they’d left Orlet, the cold and constant tension in his gut left him staring up at the ceiling long after the sun had risen. 

_ I would suck your dick in the middle of the throne room… _ the words echoed through his head, and Abraham groaned in frustration. He told himself that his weapons felt cold and dead in his hands because it had been weeks since he’d been in a church. He told himself that the first chance he got, he would drop to his knees, and put his mind back in order. And yet, a voice in his head hissed that that wasn’t true, and that it wouldn’t matter once they crossed the border. He wouldn’t have access to even the most humble of shrines. 

Abraham shook his head and renewed his grip on his weapon and set to work again. He pushed himself until his limbs shook, and his prayers were broken by staccato gasps. The amulet around his neck felt heavier than ever.

***

The weather was warmer on the fifth day, warm enough that the sound of dripping water accompanied his days alone. Abraham listened to the sound of footsteps on the stairs, the familiar fall of his footsteps. He was on his feet before the door opened, standing at attention, his closed fists pressed to his lower back. The vampire froze in the doorway at the sight of him. He saw Dorian’s shocked expression out of the corner of his eye, before it smoothed over. 

“Well, isn’t this a surprise.” Dorian’s voice was careful. Abraham’s face flushed in embarrassment, but he didn’t move. Dorian stopped in front of him, placing his palm flat on Abraham’s chest. “But incorrect.” Abraham grimaced, he’d thought he had gotten it right. Dorian reached out, maneuvering his body so that his stance was slightly wider, his hands clasped one over the other against his lower back. “Much better.” Dorian was almost pressed against his chest, his fingertips points of contact that Abraham couldn’t help but be aware of. “You look almost as if you could be servicing the barracks.” 

Abraham was getting used to Dorian’s needling. He scowled at him, “I suppose that’s the fault of my teacher.” he replied, lips slanting upwards when he looked down at Dorian. His heart picked up a rapid tempo in his chest, one that he was sure Dorian could feel even through the layers of his clothes. 

He was looking up at him, his hair was unbound again, as it often was these days. It made him look softer. Something dark and hungry flickered in Dorian’s eyes. His lips were parted, head cocked as if he were listening for something.

“Are you-” 

“I’m fine,” Dorian replied, his voice sounded far away. He pressed his palm flat to Araham’s chest, and he realized with a shock that Dorian was feeling his heartbeat. “It’s been… a while since I fed. I thought I could hold out until we crossed the border.” 

Abraham’s blood ran cold. Perhaps he could have if they hadn’t been delayed. The snow was melting, but it would be a day or so longer for it to be safe to travel. He hadn’t thought, hadn’t realized that it had been some time. He had been with Dorian this whole time, he hadn’t left his sight for more than a few moments since they’d left Orlet. It was impossible for him to have fed from someone else, which meant… Abraham counted backwards. “Let me help.” he said. 

“The last time you helped didn’t go well. I would rather not risk it again.” But his eyes had dropped to Abraham’s chest, and Abraham got the distinct impression that he was trying to see the blood that ran under his skin. 

“Weren’t you the one that said something about going mad from bloodlust? I would rather avoid waking up to find your teeth in my throat.” 

“If I’m that far gone you wouldn’t wake up,” Dorian replied. There was a dreamlike expression on his face, his lips parted. 

“It would be a good chance to practice having you feed on me when I’m in the capital.” Abraham offered. He wondered with a sick pit in his stomach where his life had gone wrong that he was trying to convince a vampire to feed from him.

“When?” Dorian asked, his gaze suddenly focused on his face. His brows were drawn together in confusion.

“If.” Abraham amended. He didn’t want to seem eager. When had he started saying when? He hadn’t decided. 

Dorian swallowed, looking at Abraham as if he were trying to peel back the layers of his mind. “Take off your scarf.” Dorian ordered, taking a step back from him. Abraham’s hands were shaking as he obeyed, a shiver creeping down his spine as the cold air touched his skin. 

Dorian crossed the room, looking around for a moment before hopping onto the counter to watch Abraham with dark eyes. “Come here.” There was no sharpness in his voice, no weight of common, just something dark and desperate that had Abraham stepping forward before he could even consider that this might not be a good idea.

Dorian spread his legs as he approached. He hooked his fingers into Abraham’s shirt, pulling him forward gently so that he stood between them. The counter brought them up to eye level, and Abraham looked down, unable to meet his gaze. Dorian shifted closer, and Abraham pressed his lips together. His thighs were pressed gently to either side of his hips. Not quite embracing him, but enough that he could feel the firm press of them, betraying the supernatural strength that Dorian often hid. 

A small, shocked sound slipped from his lips when cold fingers tipped his head upwards again. It forced him to meet Dorian’s gaze, his touch was like ice. Had it always been this way or was his body running hot? Abraham wanted to say something, but his mind was quickly spiraling into that blank, empty space that he’d had before. Dorian shook his head, something like amazement in his expression. He was breathing harder as he leaned forward. Icy lips burned a kiss against his skin, and Abraham made another strangled sound. 

He was prepared this time, for Dorian to bite him, and he realized too late that he had no weapon on him, nothing to protect himself from the man. The pain faded quickly, something sweeter, hotter stirring in his chest. Abraham leaned forward, his hands hovering as if he wanted to hold him closer. Dorian seemed to catch his meaning and as he bit down harder, lips sealing over the wound, his legs locked around his hips, pressing the warm core of him against the front of Abraham’s pants. 

Dorian slipped his hands around Abraham’s neck, a parody of a lover’s embrace, and the knight felt himself shattering. His hips twitched forward on his own, the pressure of his clothes drawing another desperate moan from him. Abraham’s hands came down, fingers digging into Dorian’s waist as he lost himself in the feeling. Dorian’s lips were still on his throat. Soft, needy sounds came from the man as he drank. Abraham flinched as cool hands slipped lower, tugging desperately at his shirt so that they could slip under the hem. Dorian’s touch was so cold against his overheated skin. It burned, fanning the bonfire that was building within him. 

Abraham’s hips were moving again, pressing against him, and Dorian’s nails dragged up his stomach, a threat of pain that left him lightheaded. Dorian withdrew his teeth from his skin, and simply kissed it, his tongue probing in the wound. His breath was warm as it ghosted over his neck. The nails dragged upwards, over his chest, rucking his shirt up further to expose more of him. Abraham felt lost, felt damned. He stood on a cliffedge, and that need mounted the same moment Dorian hissed in pain, shoving Abraham backwards. 

Abraham stumbled, nearly fell as the room spun around him. “Wha-” Dorian was cradling one hand to his chest, the other clawing at his chin. Through his fingers, Abraham could already see a welt forming, the skin raised and reddened, splitting open. His hand was worse, already swelling as if he’d stuck his hand in a fire. Abraham stared in shock, a sickening horror dosing the fire in his gut. 

He touched the bump of his amulet, staring at Dorian as if he were seeing him again for the first time. Dorian was always careful to avoid touching his things. The holy symbol was sacred, a reminder of the vows he took, a way for him to channel the gods power. Evil could not touch it. Dorian could not touch it. Abraham felt sick. He touched his neck, his hand shaking. He’d forgotten. He’d let himself forget. For all that the man seemed human, for all that he joked and prodded, for all that Abraham had  _ let _ himself relax around him, he was still the antithesis of everything he’d built his life on.

“Abraham.” Dorian said. His eyes shot towards him. There was blood in his teeth. His skin was red, white around the edges where the skin was peeling up. “Whatever is going on in your head-” 

“Don’t.” Abraham gasped. He was shaking. He took another step back. “Don’t just… stay where you are.” He was moving backwards. 

Dorian’s boots hit the floor hard as he hopped down. “Abraham, I need you to calm down. If anything, I should be the one upset here-”

Abraham shook his head. He didn’t want to hear what he had to say. He needed to escape. He needed to get his head back in order. He needed to get somewhere that wasn’t around Dorian and his manipulations. He turned and bolted from the house, the icy air stinging his lungs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to say it, this was one of my favorite chapters to write! I really enjoyed this scene!
> 
> Thank you all for reading!
> 
> You can follow me at:  
> robin-redd on [Tumblr](https://robin-redd.tumblr.com)  
> @RobinRedd8 on[Twitter](https://twitter.com/RobinRedd8)  
> for story updates and to just generally hear about whatever I'm screaming about rn.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 22! I did it team! More than 50k words!!

Abraham woke with the sun on his face. He felt heavy, disoriented as he rubbed his hand over his eyes. He was in the barn. He only had the faintest memory of running out here in his panic. An ache shot down through his neck and into his shoulder when he pushed himself upwards. His entire body was stiff with the cold. Abraham blinked in confusion as a blanket pooled in his lap. He hadn’t brought it with him.

His chest felt like it was being crushed at the realization that Dorian must have come out to cover him. It was any wonder what he must have thought when he’d seen Abraham passed out as far from the door as he could get. Bile rose in his throat. 

Dorian was a vampire. He was a monster - a creature who was turned away by the gods. It didn’t matter how kind he seemed, he was counter to everything Abrhaam had built his life on. In the months Abraham had been around him, he’d felt himself getting weaker. He hadn’t had a proper hunt since leaving Turncliff. There hadn’t been a reason to flex his magic, but he could feel it all the same. It had been easy to explain it away as tiredness. He’d told himself that he was getting close to Dorian for the good of the people. If he didn’t feed on him, he would find someone who wasn’t absolved of their sins and their soul would leave them with their blood. 

Everything had happened so fast once the snow started to fall and he’d been swept along by the current of Dorian’s influence. He’d spent his entire life being careful, living by the teachings of his faith. He’d dedicated his adulthood to killing creatures like Dorian. He’d seen the destruction that could bring. More than once, humans had fallen to his blade for standing between them and the vampire that had twisted them into something unrecognizable. 

He always wondered how people could be so blind, but the pit in his stomach refused to go away. He’d let himself be lured by words dripping with honey, and soft touches that made his heart race, and forget what Dorian was. It wasn’t his fault that he seemed so animated when he was explaining some nuance of Aberinian politics. Abraham had found himself enjoying their talks. There was a challenge in connecting the dots, and he’d flushed with pride every time Dorian praised him for getting something correct. He found himself craving those moments of intimacy when Dorian would touch him. It had been so long since anyone had spent more than a few days around him, and longer since someone had  _ touched  _ him and in it all he’d forgotten. 

He could still see the way Dorian’s skin had split. He must have brushed the chain around his neck when he’d kissed his throat. Abraham could still feel icy fingers moving up his sternum. He could hear Dorian’s gasp of pain, more like an injured animal than anything human. Abraham felt sick. 

The horses nickered at him when he got to his feet, and he went about feeding them mechanically. His sore body protested the entire time. He moved slowly, using as much time as he could, despite the fact that Dorian would be deep in sleep at this time of day. He stood in the barn long after he’d finished, trying to master himself. 

It was warmer today than it had been in some time. Not warm enough to be comfortable, but he could see patches of ground through the melting slush. The ground was wet and soggy, his boots sliding in the mud as he stumbled towards the house. The farmhouse was quiet when he entered. He didn’t know why he expected Dorian to be standing where he’d left him, ready with a sharp word to scold him for his panic, but there was nothing. His bag lay packed on the counter, beside his scarf, and he knew he hadn’t put it there.

Abraham bit his lip. It would be easy. He could just take his things and leave. He could put a lot of distance between him and Dorian before nightfall, more if he traveled through the night. There would be no farewells, no arguments. He could put all of this behind him. Every movement sent pain arcing through his neck. He pressed into his carefully, hissing at how warm the skin felt. He looked towards the cellar door. Was Dorian even still here? Had he left before Abraham had woken? 

Abraham touched the amulet around his neck. It felt like little more than a cold lump of metal dragging him down like a yoke. A bone deep exhaustion pulled at him. “I don’t understand. What do you want?” He whispered, pulling it out from the layer of his clothes. He’d thought that he’d gotten his answer in Orlet. He knew that the coin trick likely relied more on luck than divine intervention. It wasn’t meant to be a prophecy - it was barely even an omen. Still, Abraham had always taken stock of omens. He pulled out a coin, begging for a sign of what was the right path. Heads he would go with Dorian, tails he would go home.

He flipped it, fumbled as he tried to snatch it out of the air. It bounced with a dull ping and landed beside a small crack in the floor. Abraham didn’t dare breathe as he leaned over it. His foot on the floor was enough to send it slipping through the crack.

He liked to think that such things pointed him in the right direction. He’d always put his faith in the gods, and let their guidance chart his path. He stared at the crack where the coin had fallen, and felt as if he were being pulled in two different directions. 

The Bishop had said his place was with Dorian. Omens and prayers pointed him to stay, but he couldn't get the sight of Dorian’s skin swelling and splitting, just from touching the amulet around his neck. A low, frustrated sound built in his throat, and Abraham slammed his fist into the wall. 

He looked at where his things were carefully packed and shook his head. It felt wrong to just leave. The weeks he spent with Dorian made it feel awkward to just take his bag and go. He deserved more than that. 

Squeezing his eyes shut, he sank to his knees. “Please,  _ please _ . Just give me a sign.” words spilled from his lips, as exhaustion raked like claws through his chest. He fell into a deep meditation, reaching into the core of himself like he could scoop the answers out there. The world faded to nothing around him save for the dripping of water and his own ragged breathing.

***

“You’re still here.” 

Abraham jumped at Dorian’s voice. He looked up from where he knelt, his eyes wide. He hadn’t realized that the world had darkened around him. Rising on his knees, he rolled to his feet, realizing with a pang that he’d managed to do it exactly as Dorian had taught him. He was frowning at Abraham, arms crossed over his chest. His hand was wrapped carefully in a bandage, but the burn on his face was uncovered. It was still red and raw, as fresh as it had been the night before. His uninjured hand was resting on the strap of his bag.

“Why are you still here?” 

“I thought…” Abraham swallowed. He’d turned over what he might say to Dorian, but there was no goodbye that was sufficient for what they were. He glanced at his bag. “Was I supposed to leave?” 

A flinty anger flashed in Dorian’s eyes, “I had assumed you would. You’re quite adept at running away. I thought I might help you out.” 

“I’m-”

“Ser Radcliff, if you say that you’re sorry, don’t. I’m in a mood to rip your tongue out. Now, answer my question. Why are you still here?”

Abraham closed his mouth. He’d seen Dorian in a lot of moods: annoyed, and flirty, confident, even vulnerable when he gave him a peek behind his carefully crafted facade. Abraham had never seen him truly angry. “So we’re back to titles then?” 

“I don’t have time for these games,” Dorian shot back. “If you’re not going to answer my questions then I’m going to move on.” He stepped around Abraham, barely looking in his direction.

“Wait.” Abraham felt cold. He reached for Dorian’s arm. Before his fingers could close around his sleeve, the man whirled, slapping him hard enough that his teeth rattled. His eyes widened, and he reached up, and his fingers came away sticky with blood where Dorian’s nails had cut into his flesh. 

“There, now we match,” Dorian’s voice was filled with a dark promise, “Do not presume that you can touch me. I’ve given you every opportunity to do so, and since you are clearly disinterested I find that I no longer want it.”

Anger rose in his chest. “That’s not fair. I thought-”

“Not fair?” The floor shook as Dorian dropped his bag to the ground with a heavy thud. He turned on him, lips curled back from fangs. “ _ That _ is not fair? I am  _ tired _ of playing these games, Ser Radcliff. I have done everything in my power to follow your cues. I have offered you information that I have given to  _ no one _ else, have ask - no  _ begged _ for your assistance to stop a plot that endangers not just my people but yours as well, and  _ every _ time I start to think that something might be building between us, every time I extend a measure of trust, you slam it in my face and run away.” He took a step forward, into Abraham’s personal space as he glared up at him. “I find that I am tired, Ser Radcliff, aren’t you?”

Abraham opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He felt like he’d been dunked in a frozen lake. He’d gotten very used to reading Dorian’s reactions. Behind the anger and harsh words simmered a hurt that Abraham hadn’t thought him capable of. “I hurt your feelings.” 

Dorian’s laughter was harsh, and he looked very much like he wanted to hit him again, “Don’t flatter yourself, Ser. You’re not important enough for that.” 

Abraham winced. Faced with it, he found that he didn’t want to leave. He’d told Dorian he would see him to the palace, and he’d meant it. There were other knights all through the region, if one of them found him it wasn’t likely he would survive.

“Don’t think so little of me,” Abraham grimaced again when Dorian answered his thoughts, “Despite what you seem to believe, I’m more than capable of finding my own way to the capitol. I find that I grow tired of traveling with someone who seems unable to make up his mind.” The cold indifference was back. Abraham wasn’t prepared for how much that stung.

“I said I would see you to your home.” Abraham replied, “And that I would have an answer for you if I would stay by the time we reached the border.” He swallowed hard, “We’re not at the border, are we?”

Dorian glared at him, his expression as cold and hate-filled as Abraham’s had been the first time they’d met. “I suppose we’re not, but I’m afraid I already know your answer.” 

“You don’t.” 

Dorian sucked in a breath through his teeth. He closed his eyes, for several seconds. “I don’t have all night to argue about this. We’re wasting precious nightfall. I won’t stop you from traveling with me, but I don’t expect you to come any further than the border.” 

_ What if I want to? _ The words stuck on his tongue, but Dorian cocked his head as if he could hear them anyway. 

“Come along. Let’s get this over with.” Dorian said. He turned on his heel and walked out, leaving Abraham to scramble to grab his bag. 

They saddled the horses in silence. As they set back off along the winding path that would lead them to the road, Abraham couldn’t help but look back at the farmhouse. He felt a pang of loss so strong and unexpected that it left him breathless. Dorian said nothing as he flicked his reins and rode ahead. He didn’t even look back.

***

Despite the warm days, the path was still dangerous. They had to go slowly, careful of the horses and the slick ground. This far north, there was no one who bothered to maintain the roads, It was overgrown in places, with patches that seemed to be nothing but mud and gnarled branches hell bent on breaking a horse’s leg. The journey was slow-going, made worse by the chilly silence that had settled between them. 

Dorian hadn’t said a word to him except to give curt instructions or suggestions of a different path if they had to go around a particularly treacherous stretch. Abraham had tried. He’d asked Dorian about some of the questions that still lingered about court life, and had received only one word answers when he didn’t get an icy stare. 

The first night they’d stopped for camp, Dorian had left his horse for Abraham to tend to, winding his way through the trees to find someplace safe to sleep without a backwards glance. Abraham didn’t call after him, though part of him wanted to. Maybe it was best this way. He’d let himself forget what Dorian was. Every time he looked at the mark on his face - healing as slow as a human would - he was reminded that he’d let things get out of hand. Still, he found he missed their conversations. Dorian’s blank stare made him long for the heat and passion and wit that he usually had. 

Dorian was right, he wasn’t sure what he wanted. 

Three nights were spent outside, and they still hadn’t reached the closest township. Abraham didn’t know how Dorian managed to look relatively clean after burying himself in the muck. A stream perhaps, or a bit of snowmelt. He kept his hair up, though, twisted into a tight bun that made him look more severe. 

“You never did tell me what house you were from.” Abraham said, drawing up beside him. Dorian kept his eyes ahead.

“And I won’t.”

He ground his teeth in frustration. This felt like his hundredth dry to get Dorian to speak to him. “Why not?” 

“Because you don’t need to know. Besides, I’ve given you all the information you need to figure it out. I thought you were smarter than that, Ser Radcliff.” 

Abraham scowled, “Will you please stop calling me that.” 

Dorian’s eyes shot towards him, “I distinctly remember you telling me two months ago not to call you anything else.” 

“....that was two months ago.” Abraham said after a long moment. 

Dorian gave him a cool, appraising look, “Please drop the kicked puppy act, it doesn’t suit you.” 

Abraham swallowed. It wasn’t an act. The longer the silence went on, the more it dragged at him. The more he realized that he missed whatever that fragile thing had been building between them. 

“Don’t you ever get  _ tired _ of thinking?” Dorian snapped. 

”I’m just trying to understand.” 

Dorian sighed, frustration clear on his face, “You’re always trying to understand. Not everything has to have meaning, Ser Radcliff. Not everything is so black and white. Truly, I am sorry that your faith has twisted you up so badly that one minor act sends you into a spiral of self-loathing, but forgive me if I don’t want to deal with it.”

“Do you still want my help?” Abraham asked. He couldn’t help but press. This was more words than Dorian had said to him in days.

“Not if every time I touch you you’re going to wonder if it’s some trick or if you’re damming your soul to whatever you think waits for you beyond.” 

It was Abraham’s turn to lapse into silence. He didn’t know what Dorian wanted from him. He didn’t know how to fix this between them. Marcus had spoken about his games. Dorian had warned him time and time again that he was a master manipulator. He’d explained the complex web that was the court, a web that was in no small part his own making. “There are things you haven’t told me. I just want to know I can trust you. I want…” he wanted to be able to have what had been building before. He wanted to explore that heat that Dorian could stoke in him with a look. There were so many unknowns. He didn’t know if Dorian even cared for him, if he cared for people at all. Marcus had said that he didn’t, but he’d changed.

“Then you had better find a way to reconcile that within yourself. I’ve done as much convincing as I’m going to do.”

Abraham opened his mouth to retort, his gaze moving to the town nearby. Dorian saw it the moment he did. Nearly a dozen people on horseback carrying the blood red banners were riding hard towards the town. Abraham’s blood ran cold even as Dorian drew in a sharp breath beside him. “What are they doing?” the vampire said quietly. He couldn’t see the crest from here, but he had do doubt who it belonged to. 

Abraham didn’t think, he was moving already. With a flick of his reigns, he set a gallop towards the city where the Red Queen’s soldiers were breaching the gates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a great ride, but have no fear, this story will continue. There's still a few more chapters/longer sections that I need to do to wrap up this first book, and then it's on to the second whose name will remain a mystery until the final chapter. I hope you all enjoyed this. I think there's about 5-10k words left in this first part! 
> 
> I'm probably going to continue to update daily for this one, but once I start the next, I want to do longer chapters and update weekly/whenever the chapter is finished. It'll also give me time to do a bit of light editing and the like.
> 
> Thank you all for reading and I hope you like this chapter! There's more to come!
> 
> You can follow me at:  
> robin-redd on [Tumblr](https://robin-redd.tumblr.com)  
> @RobinRedd8 on[Twitter](https://twitter.com/RobinRedd8)  
> for story updates and to just generally hear about whatever I'm screaming about rn.


	23. Chapter 23

Abraham’s mind was already slipping into the blank, qutie place he went when he hunted. There was no room for mistakes. No room for thoughts that weren’t about protecting the people that needed him. He could hear screaming, cries of shock and pain over the peel of a church bell ringing out it’s warning into the icy air. He dismounted easily, drawing his sword with a cold tension building in his stomach. Dorian was riding fast behind him. He was off his horse and by Abraham’s side in a flash. The knight ignored him as he stepped inside. 

His skin tingled as he gripped his sword tighter. He gripped the amulet around his neck, whispering a prayer of guidance. The air shifted, heat sparking under his skin as his awareness spread. He blinked, his sight sharpening in the dim light. He could sense Dorian beside him, a cold spot in his mind. He ignored it, pushing himself forward towards the nearest creature. 

He raced down the street, letting divine senses guide him. His heart beat a slow, steady pace against his ribs. He was calm as he turned the corner, his gaze impassive as he rounded the corner to find a vampire bearing down on a man. The creature struck, tossing the man against the wall with a sickening thud. It pounced on him, teeth sinking into his throat. It didn’t see Abraham bearing down on it, his voice ringing with a prayer as his sword flared with a blinding white light. He swung hard, putting every ounce of strength behind the attack. The blade sank into the creature’s flesh and it screamed. Abraham relished the sound, its skin burning, melting as the light seared into it.

Dorian was behind him, pushing past Abraham to kneel over the man. He pulled a scrap of cloth from his pocket, pressing it to his neck, “Go! I’ve got this here.” 

Abraham nodded and pressed onwards. There were fewer of the creatures than he’d realized from a distance. Nearly half as many. They knew he was here. He could feel them trying to close in on him, using their numbers to take out the threat. Abraham’s body felt hot, as if he were being burned from the inside out. He wasn’t as quick as his marks, but he could feel magic pulsing in his veins. He cut down three more. Abraham drove his sword between the gap in a fourth’s armor. The movement let him see the crest on its chest.

It was the symbol of the royal family of Aberon. 

He’d seen it before. 

A cold dread settled in his stomach.

The recognition was enough to break his concentration. He could sense a vampire behind him, but his movement was too slow. It threw itself at him as he turned. He wasn’t going to be fast enough. Abraham lifted his sword, the light on it sputtering as he tried to regain his focus. The body hit him hard, driving him to the ground. A hand grabbed his wrist, slamming it against the stone, once, twice. His blade was ripped from his hands. Abraham struck out with his free hand, shoving his armored forearm into the creature’s face as it struck at him. He locked his arm, the muscle straining and popping with the effort. 

He tried to bring his leg up, to get a bit of room so that he could grab the dagger tucked into his boot. The creature’s nails dug hard into the sensitive skin of his wrist, making him gasp in pain. 

Someone was cursing nearby. The creature looked up at someone over Abraham’s head. He saw its eyes widen in shock and recognition the moment a blade sliced through its neck with enough force to knock it off of Abraham. The knight scrambled to his feet the same moment his blade clattered by his head. Dorian was cursing, clutching his hands to his chest. Abraham scooped up his sword, his eyes scanning the darkness. 

“There aren’t anymore.” Dorian said through gritted teeth. He hit his knees hard, a high keen of agony pulling from his throat. “ _ Shit.”  _ His voice was wet. He bowed over his hands. 

Abraham didn’t sheath his blade as he came forward, reaching for his companion even as Dorian flinched back 

“Don’t  _ touch _ me.” He looked like a wounded animal, eyes wide and wild. People were peering out from their hiding spots, Abraham could feel their eyes on them. They had to leave. Dorian’s face was twisted in pain, his fangs almost glinting in the moonlight.

“How can I help?” 

Dorian’s laughter was a harsh, pained thing. He gagged on it as the movement jostled his hands. Abraham knelt beside him, reaching out again to grip his arm. 

“ _ Stop _ .” Dorian tried to pull away, but pain made him weak. 

Abraham hissed when he saw his ruined hands. If brushing his holy symbol had left his fingers badly burned, gripping his sword had eaten away at the skin. Abraham’s stomach turned when he saw that it had burned down to bone. Dorian’s teeth were clenched. His eyes were bright in the moonlight. The sight of his tears made Abraham’s stomach turn. “You’re injured.” He said, nostrils flaring at the scent of Abraham’s blood. He leaned towards it. He looked less human than he’d ever had, and Abraham’s stomach clenched. 

An idea came to him. He didn’t stop to think about it as he offered his bleeding wrist to Dorian. The man’s eyes widened in shock, but he latched on. He drank deeply, and Abraham watched in shock as the wounds started to close. Dorian pulled away after a moment, his fingers twitching in pain. Before Abraham could respond, Dorian bowed forward again, shivers of pain wracking his body. “What does it keep getting  _ worse _ ?” Abraham didn’t know how to answer, he didn’t have time to when Dorian swayed on his knees, nearly tipping into the dirt. His face looked ashen, his eyes unfocused at the people who watched them from their homes. He cocked his head as if he was listening for something. “Get me out of here.” he said. 

Abraham dragged Dorian to his feet, the man leaning heavily against him as the pair stumbled down the street. He could see the hard eyes of the humans they’d saved, and kept his sword in his hand, ready in case someone tried to stop them. Somehow he doubted that it mattered much that they’d stopped the threat if one of them was a vampire. 

***

Dorian was barely conscious by the time Abraham found a place to stop for the night. He knew there was a small cave nearby that would be deep enough to protect him from daybreak, but it had taken longer than he’d expected to get to it. He’d had to walk beside the horses, ensuring that Dorian stayed in the saddle while gilding them both. 

It was late when they finally reached it. Dorian’s hands were healing, quicker than they had before because of Abraham’s blood, but still painfully slow. He lowered him to the ground as far away from the cave-mouth as he could. “I don’t know what to do.” He said, watching helplessly as Dorian shivered. 

“Distract me.”

“How?” 

“ _ Anything, _ Abraham. Conversation, give me something.” 

Abraham bit his lip. “You saved my life.”

“I wouldn’t have had to if you’d kept your guard up.” Dorian shot back. 

Abraham didn’t take the jab personally. A question pressed against his lips, but he didn’t know if he could bring himself to ask it. Instead he said, “Why?”

Dorian said nothing for so long, that Abraham thought he’d passed out. HIs voice was soft, strained when he spoke, “I didn’t really stop to think about it.” 

Abraham didn’t know what to say to that. He stared at him, his heart suddenly beating too hard in his chest. Dorian had to have known how much it would hurt to grab his blade. “I thought you had another way to kill them. You didn’t have to-”

“I didn’t stop to think about it,” Dorian snapped. “I knew that would kill him.” 

Abraham stared at him in shock. He didn’t understand why Dorian had helped him at all. These were his people. He could have just left it to Abraham, but instead he’d helped people escape, putting himself between them and the vampires. He’d burnt his hands to protect Abraham. 

“Why?” Abraham repeated, his voice soft.

Dorian cocked his head, looking at him in the when he was answering what Abraham was thinking. “Because it was the right thing to do, and you were going to go in regardless of if I was there.” 

Abraham felt a pang in his chest. He bit his lip, glancing down at Dorian’s hands. “...I’ll do it.” He said softly. 

“Pardon?” 

“I’ll do it. This… plan of yours. I’ll do it.” 

Dorian’s eyes widened, “Why now?” 

Abraham shrugged. “You helped.” He said simply, not wanting to name the emotion that stirred in his chest. Dorian’s laugh was tinged with pain and exhaustion. 

“Of course.  _ That _ would be what convinced you.” 

Abraham swallowed, nodded. Though there had been something else. He glanced towards Dorian, remembering the ring he’d had around his finger, the crest on the bracelet he’d given him. “You’re not just an advisor are you?” 

Dorian smiled through the pain, “No.” 

“Are you-” He shook his head, “What should I call you then?” 

“Dorian is fine. I never cared for titles, remember?” the man closed his eyes, taking a slow breath. “How do you feel about making a show of it when we arrive at the palace? I think I know how I want to present you to my Queen.” 

“Just tell me what to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! We'll be wrapping this up in the next few chapters and it'll be on to the next one! I think three maybe... we'll see. This one didn't quite go how I wanted to to, but in my defense, I had to work until 1am for my day job and I am tired. Something to fix in editing!
> 
> You can follow me at:  
> robin-redd on [Tumblr](https://robin-redd.tumblr.com)  
> @RobinRedd8 on[Twitter](https://twitter.com/RobinRedd8)  
> for story updates and to just generally hear about whatever I'm screaming about rn.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it, the last chapter of this book!

The Red Palace really was beautiful this time of year. From a distance, it stood imposing over the capital city of Loset, a bloody smear against the night sky. Black iron gates surrounded the grounds like twisted thorns. The first snow had already fallen, but the white piles did nothing to soften the image of the crimson keep. Its sharp spires scraped the sky, every window glowing with orange light. Banners bearing the crest of the Queen flapped in the cold winter light. Loset felt pale in comparison. In person, the palace was breathtaking. The black gates were ornamented, iron carved in twisting patterns. The spires were more artful, the lights warm, almost inviting. He could taste the magic on his tongue, far more ancient and less caustic than what he’d felt at the grand cathedral in Turncliff. 

Or perhaps that was simply the feeling of coming home. 

Double doors marked the entrance to the palace, and he strode in as if it were his, lips curling into a sharp smile. He blended perfectly with the decor. His clothes were the same dark colors, his hair perfectly coiled and pinned back save for a few artful pieces he let fall to frame his face. It made his companion look all the more like an outsider. Dorian tightened his grip on the shackles, never breaking stride as his footsteps echoed around the open chamber. 

The doors responded to his prescience, and he smiled, making no effort to hide how pleased he was. It seemed the Queen had not changed the permissions of the castle after all. The throne room was exactly as he remembered it. The walls were lined with the crest of the royal family, people milled around the tall pillars and alcoves, hoping for an audience with her Majesty. 

He knew it when people saw him, his name rippling through the air as if the very mention of him held power. Beside him, his companion stiffened and Dorian jerked him forward with a harsh twist of his arm. People parted for him, some scrambled out of the way when they saw the cold, cruel twist of his mouth. It reminded him of how he’d made a show of leaving the court. 

He kept his head held high, the sound of his boots on the polished marble like a heartbeat. Dorian stopped at the foot of the dias, lifting his chin towards the throne. He didn’t bow, didn’t waiver as he lifted his gaze. His eyes found the Prince first. Victor stood behind guard, his eyes sparkling with a hatred that made Dorian shiver. Dorian gave him a sharp smile, a dark knowledge in his eyes as he drew his companion forward like a shield. 

“My Queen.” His voice rang through the hall, loud and confident. He threw his companion down at his feet. The man hissed in pain, scraping against the floor as he landed badly.

The Red Queen sat on her throne. He  _ felt _ it when she saw him, felt her gaze move through him. His stomach twisted. It took every ounce of effort he had to keep his head up, to meet her crimson gaze. She was as perfect as he remembered. Her face was a blank mask, perfectly white without the slightest lines of age or expression. Her hair was piled on top of her head in blonde curls, her body full-figured. He wasn’t dressed in a gown as expected, but a loose shirt, unlaced to reveal pale breasts, and pants tucked into high boots. 

Despite her coloring, the resemblance between them was striking. 

“I have come bearing a gift.” He said, bowing his head. It was a gamble. It broke protocol. He should be scraping, dropping to his knees to beg for forgiveness. 

Awareness prickled on the back of his neck, and he closed his eyes, focing his thoughts inwards, offering the memories he thought would appease her. 

“My Queen-” Victor spoke, his voice carrying in the silence of the hall. He was cut off with a wave of her hand. 

Everyone waited. Dorian waited. He held his breath, a thousand words piling on his lips. 

“Clear the hall.” Her voice was like a bell, carrying through the emptiness. Dorian stayed with his head bowed as people shuffled behind him. He fought the urge to move until the doors had closed with a firm click.

“My Queen-” 

“Silence.” 

Dorian fell silent. He lifted his head. 

“It has been fifty years and not a word.” 

“I-”

“I did not say you could speak.” Her voice was sharp. Dorian bowed his head in supplication. “You said you would not return, my Prince.” 

Dorian bit his tongue, watching as Abraham struggled to his knees. He met his hate-filled gaze, watching the shock and horror roll over his face. “I did, your Majesty. And I regretted leaving as soon as I did.” He bowed lower, his words coming out wet, “I did not wish to risk your wrath by returning after I had left so rudely.” 

“And yet.” 

“And yet.” Dorian replied. He straightened. “I have brought you a gift.” He reached for Abraham, dragging him to his feet. He held him in a parody of a lover’s embrace, Abraham’s back pressed to Dorian’s front, his hand splayed out over his chest. The knight glared forward, his voice muffled by the gag in his mouth. He hooked a finger in the cloth, pulling it down.

“You son of a bitch,” Abraham snarled. He jerked in Dorian’s grasp and the vampire gripped him tighter, hard enough to bruise. Abraham’s lips formed the words of a prayer, and Dorian struck, pressing sharp nails into his neck. 

“If you finish that, I  _ will _ rip your throat out.” 

“You  _ lied _ to me.” 

Dorian rolled his eyes. He gripped Abraham’s throat tighter, a threat, “A knight, Mother. From the Holy Church of Tinian. A vampire hunter.” He looked past the Queen towards Victor, “He slayed some of your men. I had originally planned to keep him for myself, but seeing that.” Dorian shrugged gracefully.

The Queen had stood, her eyes glittering as she stepped forward. Under Dorian’s palm, he could feel Abraham’s pulse spike. He could almost taste his fear on his tongue and he relished it. “How did you…” Dorian felt a familiar fluttering pressure in his mind, like knife-sharp claws being raked through the inside of his skull. He rode out the pain, and pressed the memories forward. He let her see his journey with Abraham, the slow process of convincing him, of the night he’d slipped something into his drink and trussed him up like a gift for his Queen. 

“I see,” Her voice was rich with approval. 

Dorian shoved Abraham to his knees as she took a step towards them, “It was not difficult, my Queen.” He replied, bowing his head. His back prickled as she drew closer. She hooked her fingers under his chin, pulling it upwards. 

_ Don’t pull away _ . He reminded himself. His stomach tightened at the touch, and her fingers gripping his chin in a punishing grip. “He is untrained, of course.” Dorian continued, his voice smooth, “But I had hoped he would be a testament to how serious I am taking my return. I have no right to ask for your forgiveness, but I beg for it anyway.” Her grip tightened, and Dorian tried not to think about the last time those fingers had gripped his chin. 

“You always did speak so prettily.” She hissed, and Dorian’s stomach sank. 

“I learned from the best.” 

Her eyes narrowed, red-painted lips curled back from sharp teeth. She dropped her gaze to the man at their feet. Abraham tensed, a thin sound of pain pulling from him. Dorian held his breath. “You insult me by bringing me something so… uncomely.” 

Dorian let the tension in his stomach unwind. “I meant no insult, my Queen. I only thought that this might be a jewel in your collection, to have a member of Tinian’s church cowed and at your feet.” 

Abraham let out a cry of disgust. He tried to rise but Dorian was faster, planning a boot in the center of his back to press downwards. “After, of course, he is trained.” He offered the Queen a warm smile. “I missed you,” He said gently. He laid a brazen hand on her wrist, dragging his thumb down the soft flesh there. “Please… let me prove it to you.” 

There was a breathless moment as he watched something thoughtful shift in her eyes, a flicker of something he hadn’t seen before he’d left. Madness. “Join me.” She said coldly, turning her gaze to her attendants, “Clear my afternoon. It seems I have need to catch up with the Prince.” 

Dorian’s stomach twisted releaf making him lightheaded. “And have this,” He nudged Abraham with the toe of his boot, “Taken to my workshop please.” He inclined his head to the Queen, “With your permission, of course.” 

“Have it done.” 

Abraham struggled when he was hauled to his feet. The look of hatred and betrayal was more believable than Dorian thought him capable of. He was better at playing his part than expected.

He watched the Knight be half-dragged into the depths of the palace, knowing that the real game was only just beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well! That was a wild ride. Have no fear, there is still more to come. This is, after all, only book one of the trilogy. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and joining me with this. It was so much fun to do NaNoWriMo and it's really set me on a path for a story I'm excited to write.
> 
> I honestly expected more smut in the story, but this ended up being more of a slow burn than I thought. I promise there will be /plenty/ of those juicy bits in the second one. Keep in mind it will also probably be darker than the first, so take care of your mental health and mind the tags!
> 
> I'm going to do longer chapters and I want to post them once or twice a week, depending on chapter length. I expect to update on Wednesday and Sunday starting 11/29/2020. Make sure to subscribe to the actual series itself so that you can get updates when the next book is posted!
> 
> Join me then for the second installment of the series with: The Pet
> 
> You can follow me for story updates at:  
> robin-redd on [Tumblr](https://robin-redd.tumblr.com)  
> @RobinRedd8 on[Twitter](https://twitter.com/RobinRedd8)  
> 


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